Red In Tooth And Claw
by JA Baker
Summary: When the crew of Galactica encounters the remains of the Forward Unto Dawn, life starts to get a lot more complicated for all involved, including an old enemy...
1. Dead Metal

_Spoilers: series two of _Battlestar Galactica_ (with references to the events and characters in _Razor_), and after the events of _Halo 3_, so all relevant spoiler warning is effect._

**Red In Tooth And Claw  
****Chapter 1: Dead Metal**

"Galactica, _Starbuck; I'm picking up something on the edge of DRADIS range._" The young CAG's voice came over the static filled radio, "_Request permission to investigate._"

"Starbuck, this is _Galactica_-Actual." Adama lifted the radio receiver and held it against one ear as he continued to read the stack of reports sprawled across the plotting table, "Precede with caution and stay in wireless contact at all times." He turned to Lieutenant Gaeta, coving the microphone with his free hand, "Set Condition Two throughout the fleet, just to be safe"

"Condition Two, aye sir." The Officer of the Watch nodded, reaching for the intercom, "All hands, set Condition Two throughout the fleet. This is not a drill. I repeat; this is not a drill."

"_I'm picking up a beacon of some kind, very weak._" The Viper pilot reported, "_Still too far out to get a lock._"

"Galactica-Actual; stay loose out there." Adama put the paperwork down, his attention suddenly shifting, "It could be a Cylon trap..."

"_Aye-aye, sir._" Starbuck almost laughed, "_You know me; cautious to the point of paranoia..._" her voice trailed off, and everyone eyes turned to face the Admiral.

"What have you got, Starbuck?" He asked, growing worried as the seconds ticked by, "Captain Thrace, report!"

"_It's a ship, sir, or at least, it was; but it's unlike anything I've ever seen._" In the CIC, no one dared move; many found themselves holding their breath, "_Badly damaged; looks almost like it was cut in two somehow. Moving aft._" The only sound in the room was the stead pulse of the DRADIS and Starbuck's slow, laboured breaths, "_Oh frak me! Sir, there's wring on the side of the ship; I can just make it out from this distance..._"

"This is no time to freeze up on my, Kara." Adama' voice was level and calm, although it was taking all his discipline and years of training to keep it from braking, "What do you see?"

"_I can read it, sir: the fracking writings in Caprican, clear as day!_" Starbuck swallowed hard, forcing herself to breath, "_It says_ FFG-201 _and_ Forward Unto Dawn, _and there's some kind of emblem; a bird, some kind of hawk or eagle, standing atop a globe with the letters_ U.N.S.C. _scrolled underneath_."

"Starbuck, _Galactica_-Actual." Adama closed the main link and set it to a privet connection between just the two of them, "Do you wish to report a Code-Omega?"

"_I don't know what the frak I want to report..._" There was a moment of silence, "_Yes sir, I wish to report a contact with a vessel of unknown origin._"

**

* * *

**

Power flashed through long dormant circuits, awaken by a faint signal from outside the ship. Lights flashed, slowly at first, but growing faster as more circuits woke up; some were too badly mangled to work properly, so they didn't detect the slow, jerking movement deep within one of the cargo bays. Something moved suddenly, sending a packing crate floating across the cavernous bay; with no gravity or atmosphere to stop it, it carried on until it it the far wall and shattered, sending its contents flying everywhere.

Several decks above and fifty metes forward, a red light started to blink on one of the cyrotubes.

**

* * *

**

"I've been through everything we have on Colonial space-flight history, even spoken to some of the civilians in the fleet." Geata spread sheets of paper across the conference room table, "I can't find any reference to a ship named _Forward Unto Dawn_ or baring the registration number FFG-201."

"It has to be one of ours: it's in Caprican." Tigh sounded gruffer than usual, but thankfully sober, "Cylons never named their ships; not even the ones they captured."

"That was then, this is now." Adama looked at the close-up phones taken by the recon _Raptor_ he had ordered out to get a closer look, "It could be a trap..."

"You're still going to send a team over to have a look, aren't you?" The XO asked, then rolled his eyes, "Gods damn it Bill!" He slammed his fist down on the table, hard, "This inquisitive streak of yours is going to get us all killed one day."

"Maybe, but not today." The Admiral lent back in his chair, "The _Pegasus_ and the civilian ships will go ahead to the next jump-point while the _Galactica_ stays behind to investigate the wreck."

"Can I recommend that the _Pegasus_ stays behind while the _Galactica_ goes with the civilian fleet?" Apollo asked, resting his elbows on the table, "The _Pegasus_ is the more powerful ship, better equipped to handle herself if this is some kind of Cylon trap."

"All the more reason to send her ahead with the civilians." Tigh shook his head in disagreement, "I don't like this mission; I think it's dangerous and inviting tragedy, but sending our most powerful ship right into the jaws of death would only compound the error."

"My thoughts exactly." Adama nodded, "If this is a trap, then the fleet can afford to lose the _Galactica_ if it means saving the _Pegasus_." He looked round the table, meeting everyone's eyes in turn, "Believe me when I say that I have no intention on leading this ship on a suicide mission unless it proves to be our only option, but this wreck could be an important clue on the location of the Thirteenth Tribe."

"I couldn't agree more." Baltar spoke up for the first time, startling everyone; many had forgotten that the vice-president was even there, he had been so quiet throughout the entire meeting, "In fact, I would like to volunteer to accompany the mission."

"I would have thought you'd had enough of that, after Kobol?" The Admiral asked: he didn't know exactly what had happened during the ill-fated first survey mission, but he knew his crew well enough to know that something had gone badly wrong, only to be covered up by the few survivors.

"Believe me, Admiral, there is nothing wrong with my sence of self preservation. In fact, after Kobol, it's probably stronger than ever." The vice-president took a long drag of his cigarette then stuffed it out in the ashtray provided, "But I'm an inquisitive man by nature; it's what drove me to apply for a place at the University of Caprica, that drove me to write a very controversial doctoral thesis. And sitting in that broom closet you jokingly call my lab is driving me slowing insane..."

"Short trip." Tigh scoffed, raising a chuckle from Starbuck.

"...and so anything that can get me out of there while and simultaneously provide me with something new, truly unknown to look at is a very welcome distraction." Baltar continued, ignoring the remark, "And can you think of anyone else in this fleet who has a double doctorate in medicine and advanced science? Or perhaps you think that Mr Geata would be a better choice?" H glanced at the young lieutenant, "No offence, Felix; be you've as good as admitted that your out of your depth here."

"None taken." Geata nodded his agreement.

"I agree; Doctor Baltar is the perfect choice to accompany the mission." President Roslin spoke up, leaning forward across the table, "But only in an advisedly role; as I'm sure the Admiral was about to point out, this is a military operation and needs to be conducted as such." The turned to face Adama, "Who do you have in mind to lead the expedition?"

"I'll do it." Starbuck almost leapt out of her seat.

"Not this time, Kara, no." Adama shook his head, "I trust you, but we need someone with more seniority and the a slightly less itchy trigger-finger for this one."

"I'll go." The voice was soft be had an unmistakable edge to it.

"Major?" Apollo looked at his XO in surprise.

"I studied First Contact protocols while at the Ministry of Defence." Shaw looked round, her eyes filled with unresolved contempt, "If this ship is of non-Colonial origin, then I know how to proceed."

"Then it's agreed: Major Shaw will lead the mission, along with Captain Thrace and Sargent Mathias and a team of marines." Adama stood, signalling the end of the meeting. He waited until almost everyone else had left the room before speaking again, "Say your piece, Saul."

"Why bother? You've already made up your mind." Tigh leaned over his chair, "My job as XO is to try and get you out of as many frack-up's as you get yourself into, and to at least try and stop you from making as many as you do. I just wish to Zeus that you;d at least pretend to listen to me every once in a while."

"I do listed to you, Saul, and I'm thankful for your counsel." The Admiral smiled at his old friend, "You're the only person in the fleet with the balls to stand up to me, and I trust your judgement."

"Just not this time? This time you're going to play another one of your 'hunches'?" Tigh's shoulders sagged, "Gods help us all."

**To Be Continued...**

I know someone's going to ask, so I'll save you the time and effort: War Of The Gods _is on hold for the time being. As I've already told Mountain King, I started to before I was ready, and I don't want to do the story the injustice of doing a half-assed job._

_It will be back, at some point, but not yet: I still need a little time out from that particular story-line._


	2. Awakening

**Red In Tooth And Claw  
****Chapter 2: Awakening**

"Two hundred meters." Starbuck reported as the _Raptor_ slowed edged towards the derelict, two short burst from its thrusters slowing their approach until they were drifting forward at a little over walking pace. Shaw only nodded in acknowledgement before activating the powerful spot-light built into the same assembly that held the scout-ships chain-gun, its bright beam casting long shadows as it passed along the pock-marked hull.

"Wherever she's from, she took one hell of a beating." The Major pointed at what had been agreed on as the 'front' of the unknown starship, "It's almost like someone cut it in two with a knife."

"No, not a knife." Baltar leaned forward, slightly clumsy in his environment suit, "See the discolouration there? Scorch marks: something must have melted through the hull in an instant, like a industrial laser cutting sheet mettle."

"Are you saying that something or someone cut this thing in half and just left it drifting in space?" Starbuck did her best to suppress the shiver running down her spine, "Now there's a happy thought..."

"Keep your eye on the ball, Captain." Shaw snapped, emphasising the last word more than was necessary. Taking control of one of the searchlight, she looked around until she located a likely looking spot. Flipping the cover off of the side of the control stick, she stabbed down on the red button below. The _Raptor_ jerked slightly as a magnetic tether shot across the void, impacting on the hull of the _Forward Unto Dawn_; the resounding clang of the impact vibrating along the cable and into the cabin.

"Not a bad shot." Starbuck nodded, hitting the winch controls to pull them in closer.

Shaw de-pressurised the _Raptor_, allowing Sargent Mathias to fire a second, smaller grapple-line into an exposed area of corridor. Securing the other end through an eye-hole on the inside of the ships hatch, she pulled it tight and tied it off, before taking a safety line from her belt and clipping it on. Kicking off, she crossed the last few meters between the two ships, gun in hand. Bending her knees, she landed on the deck, the magnetic plates in her boots allowing her to find purchase without hindering her movement too much.

"Looks clear." She reported, her voice slightly muffled by the suits radio.

"Okay people; move out, by the numbers." Shaw ordered, "Thrace, keep an eye on Baltar; I don't want to have to explain to the President how her deputy snagged his suit and died of explosive decompression."

**

* * *

**

A cloud of vapour escaped into the silent vacuum of space as the cyrotube opened, a heavily armoured glove gripping the side and a large shape loomed through the darkness. Twisting slightly in the absence of gravity, it landed on the deck, flexing its knees to absorb the impact and avoid floating back off again. Magnetic plates clicked on as it reached over to a small podium and depressed a large, round button. A bright, pure light erupted from the flat, dusty surface like a fountain of liquid ice, casting shimmering shadows. The light spun round, faster and faster until it coalesced into the shape of a beautiful woman huddled down on one knee.

"Cortana." A voice, gruff yet somehow also soft, crackled over a short-range radio link, "Are you okay in there?"

"_So long._" The woman stood slowly, light dancing up and down her body as she opened up like an exotic orchid, her eyes seeming to take a moment to focus properly, "_I'm sorry; it takes a while to get reorientated after so-long in stand-by mode_." She looked up and smiled, "_But I see you're your regular, charming self._"

"How long was I in stasis?" The Master Chief asked; his initial concern over his friends condition having been allayed, his normal business like manor returned.

"_I can't tell; too many of the _Dawn's_ systems were damaged._" The AI scanned what little remained of the once-proud frigates network, "_Seems that one of the external sensors picked up what it says is some kind of active-targeting sensor sweep._"

"Human or Covenant?"

"_Unknown._"

"Okay." The Master Chief reached out to where he had secured his MA5C Assault Rifle next to the now empty cyrotube, "Anything more you can tell me?"

"_From what little I was able to ascertain before you went into cryosleep, at least one armoury and the aft cargo bay seem to have survived intact, so you should be able to pick up some additional weapons._" The AI reported, "_All internal sensor are down, but there's a good possibility that part of the ship is still pressurised, although the air's probably not that good after so long. Radiation counts low, so the reactor's probably intact._"

"Then we know where to start." The Spartan reached down and pulled the high-density data-chip from the holographic display terminal and slotted it into place at the base of his armours neck. There was the by now familiar feeling of someone pouring liquid hydrogen down his spine as Cortana interfaced with his suit, using parts of his own brain as additional storage and processing space.

"_Typical; I leave you alone for a while, and you forget to clean up._" The AI muttered, "_I don't know how you ever survived without me..._"

"You'd be surprised." The Chief lifted his gun to one shoulder and flipped on the attached flash light, "Let's get to work."

**

* * *

**

"Come on; put your back into it!" Starbuck grunted as she pushed against the pry-bar, trying to force the first hatch they came to open, "I felt it give."

"We should have used explosives." Shaw hissed through clenched teeth, straining her back as hard as she could as the thick metal plate finally started to move. There was a puff of escaping air as the compartment beyond the hatch was exposed to vacuum, then the door suddenly slid open, knocking both officers off their feet. Baltar started to laugh, but the look Starbuck shot him silenced him in an instant.

"Some kind of automated emergency system?" She asked no one in particular, "Must have kicked in when the ship was exposed to vacuum."

"It's a possibility, and if it's true, it's very good news." The Vice-President shone his flash light down the dark corridor, "If we can re-seal the hatch, we might be able to pump some air in and use this compartment as an airlock."

"Assuming we find anything worth salvaging." Shaw pointed out as she started to move forward.

They managed to close the hatch to the point where the next one opened a little more easily, a sure sign that somewhere in the hulk there was a power source that was running at least a few internal systems. Shaw tested the air with a chemical stick and frowned.

"No good; it's gone bad" She check a few more readings, then handed the sensor-unit to Baltar, "What do you make of this?"

"I don't know; I've never seen a radiation signature quite like it before." The Vice-President shock his head, "The only thing that comes close is tesseract theory; like how our FTL drives work, but on a much, much larger scale. We're talking space-folding on a massive scale, maybe even wormholes..." he stopped when he realised that the others had no idea what he was talking about, and would probably shoot him if he tried to explain, "Anyway, it's well within the tolerance of our anti-radiation meds."

"Maybe it's coming from the engine room?" Mathias suggested.

"Maybe..." Shaw shock her head, "Lets keep going."

****

While the armoury door may have been built to withstand explosive decompression and small arms fire, its designer had never taken a Spartan in a hurry into the equations: arm capable up up-righting a main battle tank all but ripped it off its hinges and cast it to one side without a seconds thought. Ducking down to fit through the hatchway, the Master Chief looked around until he found the controls for the emergency lighting. About half the panels light up on command, two shorting out in showers of sparks.

"_And the Caveman lives up to his name._" Cortana protested the unnecessary violence used to simply open a door, "_We should be thankful that this part of the ship's still exposed to vacuum; the ammo should still be good._"

"Better safe than sorry." Picking up a M6G Magnum from the nearest rack, the Master Chief checked that the magazine was full before pulling back the slide to chamber a round and flicking off the safety catch. There was no sound as the weapon discharged, and his rock-steady arms absorbed the recoil without any problems.

He agreed as he ejected the magazine and slipped in a fresh replacement, before slipping the side-arm into the holster built into the right hip of his armour. Grabbing a second pistol, he cambered a round before likewise replacing the magazine, ensuring that both weapons held the maximum number of rounds. Next he grabbed a rucksack and loaded it with spare ammunition for both handguns and his MA5C. He selected and loaded a M90 Shotgun and let it hang suspended in the air next to the rucksack while he grabbed a bandoleer of shells, followed by magazines for a pair of M7 Submachine-guns. Slipping a few spare parts into the rucksack and a combat knife into the sheath built into one shoulder strap, he lifted it onto his shoulders, careful to stop it dislodging his MA5C from its place behind his right shoulder. Securing the straps around his body, he attached an M7 to each thigh, below the Magnums. He then grabbed the M90 and made doubly sure that it was fully loaded before turning and heading for the exit.

He stopped dead a few steps from the exit when the glint of blue metal caught his eye, "Is that what I think it is?"

"_A Covenant Active-Camouflage generator._" The smile on Cortana's face was almost audible, "_I guess The Arbiter forgot about that one; lucky us._"

"Very." The Master Chief reached out and grabbed the advanced alien technology studied it for a second, before using the built-in magnet to attach it to the fount of his suit, "Might come in handy."

"_You never can tell._" Cortana agreed, "_Okay, let's go: I'm picking up faint traces of movement two decks up, in one of the pressurised sections._"

**

* * *

**

Shaw led her team deeper and deeper into the _Dawn_, trying to maintain as straight a course as they could. Everywhere they looked, they saw something that reminded them of the _Galactica_ or _Pegasus_: crew quarters with personal effects strew everywhere and left to float free when the ships artificial gravity had failed. A spotless head, complete with row after row of abandoned showers. Baltar had insisted on collecting a couple of books, insisting the even fiction could tell a lot about a civilisation. Eventually they came to a T-junction, each corridor disappearing off into the darkness.

"Anyone got a coin to toss?" Starbuck asked, boredom starting to creep into her voice.

"Stow it, Thrace." Shaw snapped back, before shining a light down both stretches of hallway, "Okay, you take Baltar and Winslow; head down that way. Mathias, Thom and I will go the other way. Keep in regular radio contract at all times, and remember; we have to be back at the Raptor in 90-minutes...mark!"

"We'll try not to be late." Starbuck nodded, pushing a protesting Baltar ahead of her. She looked round when she realised that the Marine assigned to accompany them hadn't moved, "Yo, Winslow; what's the matter? You on a break or something?"

"I'm sorry, sir." The young Marine straightened up, taking a deep breath as he fought to get his breathing under control, "I thought I saw something back the way we came."

"Well, I can't see anything." Starbuck's voice softened, "Don't worry; this place is starting to get on my nerves too. Let's go." They followed after Baltar, laughing off the incident. Neither of them noticed the faint outline hidden amid the shadows, even when it started to follow them.

**To Be Continued...**

_Apologies to Mountain King: didn't mean to make you sound like the bad-guy._

_And to those over at the Space Battles forum who are reading this; some of you are getting closer to the mark then you might think..._


	3. The Nature Of Angels & Demons

This story is dedicated to the memory of  
Sargent Major Avery J. Johnson  
(48789-20114-AJ)  
UNSC Marine Corps  
"_Send me out with a bang..._"

**Red In Tooth And Claw  
****Chapter 3: The Nature Of Angels & Demons**

Shaw led her team ever deeper into the silent depths of the _Dawn_, following every twist and turn of the main corridor, only pausing to place the occasional marker so that they could find they way back again. Eventually, after what felt like hours, they left the crew quarters behind and passed into what looked like a service area, with machine shops and even what appeared to be a gym. Part of her wanted to explore some more, but her training and the ever-present voice of Admiral Cain ordered her on. Then came more crew quarters, until finally the corridor ended with a simple hatch like the dozens that they had already passed.

"Well, I guess we open it." Mathias stepped forward, crowbar in hand, but Shaw put a hand on the Marines shoulder and shook her head.

Examining the edge of the hatchway, the Major felt around until she found an access panel. Pulling it open uncovered a circuit-board of unusual complexity and two hoses. There was a slight flash of light on metal as Shaw flicked open the razor-sharp knife Cain had given her and cut both, unleashing a momentary flood of hydraulic-fluid that floated around in odd shapes before splattering against the far wall.

Gripping the door with both hands, Shaw pulled the door open, the heavy metal sliding easily on its tracks, helped a little by the micro-gravity environment.

The room beyond tapered down to a podium and a large screen set before a window-wall looking out over some dark expanse. Shaw started to make her way down the flights of steps than ran the length of the room, past two rows of seats, each with a small table attached to one arm.

"Pilots ready room?" Thom asked, as he stood by the door, guarding their line of retreat.

"But where is everybody?" Shaw asked as she reached the triple-pained window; cupping her hands round her eyes, she tried to catch a glimpse of what lay beyond, but the darkness was total, "We must have passed hundreds of cabins, some of which look like they were abandoned in a hurry, but not a single sign of anything living?"

"It's a Gods-damn ghost ship!" Thom's eyes darting from side to side, "We should get the frack out of here."

"At ease, solider." Shaw snapped, hoping that the sudden discipline would snap Marine out of it. "There's no such thing as..."

The words died on her lips as something moved to the side of the room; hidden in the shadows, only visible in the corner of one eye. All three women span round, weapons at the ready, flash lights converging on a spot below one of the chairs. Something shifted, and the already spooked Thom fired; an explosive tipped bullet normally intended for use against Cylon Centurions turning the seat into an expanding cloud of wooden fragments and a strange, green substance. Something else shifted on the other side of the room, moving towards the podium.

"Major, I strongly recommend pulling back to the _Raptor_." Mathias suggested as she started to slowly make her way back up the steps, "This is not somewhere I want to start a fire-fight..."

"**OVER THERE!**" Thom warned before firing as something only half seen in the dim light of their lamps started to scurry down the window.

Some sixth sence told Shaw to duck out of the way, saving her life; while the room they were in and the corridors beyond still held atmospheric pressure, the area beyond the thick glass had long ago become exposed to space. The explosive tipped round sent a spiders web of cracks across the inner two layers, but the outer one held. But something unseen hurled itself at Thom, the unfortunate Marine screaming in agony as needle sharp tendrils bore through his suit and into his neck. A nerve misfired, sending an errant signal down his arm and into his hand, making it squeeze the trigger again.

The second shot hit near the first, and the already stressed glass gave way, and physics took over; the explosive out rushing of trapped atmosphere lifted Shaw and Mathias off of their feet and sent them flying out the window into the void beyond. Shaw's head connected with some unseen obstacle, and her own personal universe went as dark as the room around them. Mathias managed to reach out and grab the Major, keeping them from becoming separated.

"Thom? Captain Thrace, can you hear me? Doctor Baltar? Winslow?" She called out over her radio, but all she received back was static, so she quickly changed frequencies, "Mayday! Mayday! Mayday! This is Gunnery Sergeant Erin Mathias, Colonial Marine Corps, calling anyone with in the sound of my voice: we have an emergency."

**

* * *

**

"Some thing's very wrong." Cortana sounded genuinely concerned, "I've been listening in on their radio chatter; or at least as much of it as I can decipher through the hull, and I'm picking up no known U.N.S.C. codes or beacons. And while they all seem to be speaking Earth-standard English, their battle-chatter is all wrong."

"Separatists?" The Chief asked, tightening his grip on the shotgun, "A colony the Covenant missed?"

"Maybe. It's just seems..." The A.I. Paused for a second, "Call it a hunch, but something tells me that there's a lot more going on here than we know about."

"Last time I trusted one of your 'hunches', I ended up materialising upside down, three meters above the deck of a Flood infested Covenant cruiser."

"You're never going to let me live that one down, are you?"

"No."

"I don't know why I put up with you sometimes..." Cortana sighed, "Anyway, if and when you make contact, don't tell them about me; we might need an ace up our sleeves later on."

"You're getting paranoid in your old age..." The Chief started, then stopped, realising what he was about to say. While he had little experience dealing with anyone who was not a fellow Spartan, he had developed an understanding of the term friendship, and Cortana was perhaps the closest friend he had ever had. Indeed, he'd been willing to brave the living hell of a Flood infested and controlled High Charity to save her as much as the Index she processed, and he couldn't think of anyone he'd rather have at his side. He knew that, to an A.I., the word he'd been about to use was the worst insult.

"I'm not Rampant." Cortana hissed, her anger making the HUD crackle with static.

"Do you think I'd let you in my head if I thought otherwise?" The Chief asked, only to be met with silence. He shook his head; just how real his companions emotions were was a hotly debated topic, but he was still angry with himself that he's upset her. Looking ahead, he saw that the three people he'd been following had gotten ahead of him, and increased his pace to keep up.

**

* * *

**

Starbuck couldn't help shake the feeling that something was watching them as her team as they made their way through the derelict ship, further and further from the others. Baltar was also starting to get on her nerves; she wasn't sure if it was the legendary fine line between genius and insanity, but she could swear that she'd heard him talking to himself on more than one occasion. That, added to some of the other things she'd heard about him, had her questioning if she'd be doing the fleet a favour if she put a bullet in the back of his head and claimed he'd been killed in some freak accident, and it hadn't been possible to recover his body.

Given the look on Winslow's face, the Marine wouldn't have a problem backing up her story.

She was so caught up in her daydreaming that she didn't see the dark shape quivering in the shadows of a vent and stepped past it just in time. Winslow wasn't as lucky; an avalanche of green and grey erupted out of the ducts and enveloped her, narrowly missing Starbuck and Baltar. The Marine screamed; first in surprise, then pain as the infection forms started to send their tendrils through her suit at any weak spot they could find. Liquid fire ran through her veins as the alien life-form started to re-write her DNA to meet its own needs. Starbuck found herself frozen in terror, unable to take her eyes off of the stricken Winslow, even as one of the pulsating spheres leapt towards here. It exploded mid-air, blown apart before it could reach its intended pray. Instincts took over as Starbuck dived for what little cover there was, her eyes already following the report of a gunshot.

After what she had already seen, a tall, menacing figure suddenly appearing in the middle of the hallway was almost too much, but her training took over, bring her side-arm up to eliminate another infection form that was scurrying across the deck towards here. The menacing apparition pulled back the pump of the massive shotgun it was holding and fired again and again, eliminating all of the parasitic creatures that were swarming over the already dead Winslow.

Still badly shaken, Starbuck turned her gun on the newcomer and took her first good look: they stood a good head and shoulders above her. But where as she wore a modified flight-suit, the towering form before her was dressed head-to-toe in dark green armour with black and grey highlights and a golden, mirror like faceplate. Weapons were strapped across its body, adding to its imposing form.

Baltar's hands came round, and Starbuck saw that he was holding Winslow's dropped side-arm. He pulled the trigger, the gunshot muffled by the thin air and the insulating effects of her helmet. At such close range, it wasn't necessary for Baltar's aim to be good; the bullet struck the stranger just above its faceplate; it ricochet off of some unseen barrier, leaving a faint golden glow before expending its energy in the ceiling, embedding itself in the thick metal. Completely unharmed, the armour clad figure leaned forward until its faceplate was almost touching Baltar's helmet, until all the terrified scientist could see was his own distorted reflection in its golden surface.

"Boo!" The softly spoken word came over the radio loud and clear, the voice sounding like it had been gargling with gravel taken from the very depths of hell itself.

"**DEMON!**" The Vice-President shrieked in terror, before his eyes rolled back in their sockets and he passed out.

"I get that a lot." The stranger looked round, ignoring the weapon Starbuck was pointing at him, and held out his hand, "Come with me if you want to live."

**To Be Continued...**

_To the Space Battles crew; you guys are taking this off in directions I never intended. Okay, yes, I am going to have to address some of the issues you've raised, but not all of them._

_I'd post there myself, but for some reason the system doesn't like my account._


	4. Una Salus Victus Nullam Sperare Salutem

**Red In Tooth And Claw  
****Chapter 4: ****Una Salus Victus Nullam Sperare Salutem  
(_The Only Hope Of The Doomed Is Not To Hope For Safety_)**

"We should have heared from them by now." Tigh grummbled, the dark look on his face warning the rest of the CIC that now would not be a good time to antaganise the XO, "Something's wrong."

"You think I don't know that?" Adama's reply was barely above a whisper, "They knew the risks, same as we all did when we put on the uniform for the first time: we put our lives in harms way, stand between our loved ones and the darkness, because if we don't, no one else will."

"Hell, Bill; I read the same texts as you at the academy." His old friend snorted, "But this isn't the same: we didn't send them into battle, not this time."

"No, no we didn't." The Admiral agreed, "This time we sent them somewhere else."

**

* * *

**

The Master Chief stood motion less, one arm still held out towards the woman crouching on the deck before him. In many ways, he wasn't all that surprised by her reaction: even after the existence of the Spartans had been made public, there were hardly ever seen in the flesh, even by other UNSC personnel. But a hundred different times, on more than a dozen diuretic worlds, Spartans had helped rescue civilians from the Covenant. Shell shocked after seeing their homes raised to the ground, the sight of a seven foot tall, half-ton armour clad killing machine was daunting to say the least, and it was that sort of look the other woman had in her eyes.

"I'm not here to hurt you." He tried to reassure her, relying on the training he had been given on how to interact with civilians, "But we have to move, now."

"What the _**FRACK**_ are you?" Starbuck hissed through clenched teeth, tightening her grip on the gun still pointed at the apparition before her.

"Suggestions?" The Chief asked in a hushed tone, too low for the microphone in his helmet to pick it up.

"It doesn't sound like she's ever even heard of a Spartan before." Cortana mused, "It could be that they're from a colony that split off decades ago, and hid their past to discourage anyone from trying to contact us. That would explain a lot of what I've been able to pick up."

"That's just great." The Chief muttered, before speaking up again, "Master Chief Petty Officer Sierra-117, United Nations Space Command."

Starbuck eyes him suspiciously, half convinced that it was all some sick, twisted Cylon trick. Looking round, she look for anything she could use as a weapon, given how ineffective Baltar's attack had been. Winslow's SMG was still attached to the unfortunate Marines webbing, just slightly out of arms reach.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Keeping her eye on the armour-clad stranger, she started to inch her way across the corridor, careful to avoid moving too fast, "I've never heard of the United Nations Space Command, and what sort of name is 'Sierra-117' anyway?"

"It's the only one you're getting." The Master chief watched her, "If you've never even heard of the UNSC, then I doubt that you have clearance..." He paused for a moment, his head cocking to the side slightly, "Are you Captain Thrace?"

"What?" Starbuck blinked, her had frozen on the put of Winslow's weapon, "Yes: Captain Kara Thrace, 456-468-BSG75, Colonial Fleet."

"I'm picking up a faint distress message from a Sargent Mathias: it sounds like your friends had a run in with the Flood." The Spartan turned and started to make his way back the way they'd came, carefully re-loading his shotgun, "I suggest you follow me."

"Frack this!" Starbuck snapped, grabbing the SMG and standing up, pointing it at the Master Chief's back. "I want some answers, you Cylon fracker! Like just what were those things that killed Winslow?"

"A parasitic species called the Flood;." The Master Chief looked over his shoulder, "And if there are more of them on this ship, then we're all in danger."

"I have no idea what the frack you're going on about!" The Colonial pilot snapped back, waving the gun around slightly, "As far as I'm concerned, this is all just some elaborate Cylon trap, and I am not falling for it!"

"Pull that trigger and it'll be the last mistake you ever make." The Chief continued down the corridor, "Right now, eliminating the Flood before they start to spread is my number one concern. You do not want to get in my way."

"Frack!" Starbuck hissed, mentally kicking herself: she honestly didn't have a clue what was going on, but having seen what the so-called Flood had done to Winslow, she didn't like the idea of facing them alone. Walking over to where Baltar floated against the bulkhead, she grabbed the vice-president and slung unceremoniously him over one shoulder, mindful of the extra mass and the way it effected her inertia and centre of gravity. Looking up, she saw the Chief reach the first corner and called out, "Wait up!"

The Spartan slowed his pace just enough to catch up, but kept scanning every possible hiding space here an infection-form could be laying it wait to ambush them. While his own armour had been upgraded to make it almost impervious to their tendrils, he was now responsible for at least three other people. He knew that, if it came down to it, he would kill them to prevent the Flood from escaping and not give it a second thought: too many good people had died to risk even one infection-form getting off of the _Dawn_, especially as the only possible response would be to fire the remaining Halos.

"Okay, assuming for a moment that you're not part of some over-elaborate Cylon trap, what are you?" Starbuck asked, following close enough behind to feel at least a little protected, but far enough that she could easily bring her gun up at the first sign of treachery.

"I am a Spartan." The Chief replied, waiting to see if that got a result, even from someone who claimed to have never heard of the UNSC.

"That what you toasters are calling yourselves now?"

"Toaster?" The Spartan asked.

"Domestic appliance used to toast bread." Cortana explained, "But the way she said it, it sounds almost like a curse of some kind."

"Toaster? Bullet-head? Chrome-dome?" Starbuck asked, "A Cylon?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." The Chief stopped when they reached the junction where the two teams had split up, "If you're going to come with me, then I need to know I can trust you not to shoot me in the back."

"Funny; I was thinking the same thing." The Colonial officer rolled her eyes, "Well, I have to say, as traps go, this ones certainly original. Heck, if it wasn't for Winslow, I'd say it was almost entertaining..."

"You are underestimating the severity of the situation." The Spartan loomed over her, his tone of voice developing a menacing edge, "If the Flood get off this ship and make it to an inhabited planet, they will start to multiply. If they get access to a working ship, they will start to spread, and one way or another that will lead to the death of every living thing in the galaxy. The Flood can not be bargained with. They have no objectives other than multiplying and spreading out, consuming everything in their path until there is nothing left. The only way to stop them is to eliminate every last trace of their presence. I've seen what they can do, and I will not let anything get in my way of stopping them once and for all."

Starstruck took a step back, shocked by the raw anger and determination behind the words. She wished, not for the first time, that she could see anything approaching a face behind the golden visor, assuming that it was a visor.

"We going to do this then or what?" She asked, steeling herself against whatever might lay ahead. She still didn't trust her menacing companion, but couldn't think of a better plan of action.

"Follow me." The Master Chief paused for a moment, then nodded towards Baltar, "What about him?"

"Frack..." Starbuck hissed, slipping the still unconscious vice-president off her shoulder and pulling his inert body round until she could see his face, then started to shake him, "Time to wake up, Doc."

"What?" Baltar spluttered, his eyes fluttering, then flying open in abject terror when he saw the Master Chief standing behind Starbuck, "Argggh!"

"Well, that's a big improvement." Cortana chuckled in the Spartans ear, "If it wasn't the constant need to point guns at us, I might find this people amusing."

"You have a very warped sence of humour." The Chief commented, reaming as still as he could to avoid startling the other man.

"Listen very closely to what I'm about to say, because I don't intend on repeating myself." Starbuck managed to hold the terrified Baltar's gaze, "Now I'm not totally sure what's going on here, but this inter mission is turning into one bit cluster-frack: Winslow is dead, and it looks like the others might be in danger. Now I don't exactly trust this guy," she cocked a thumb at the Spartan, "but if he isn't some insane Cylon trap, he may well be our only chance of getting off this ship alive. Either way, I can't fight and carry you at the same time. So snap out of it and try not to get killed."

"I am the Vice-President of the Colonies, I'll remind you." Baltar replied dryly, trying to regain his composure, "And I insist that you treat me with the respect due my position."

"You elected this guy?" The Master Chief asked.

"Don't blame me; I sure as hell didn't vote for the guy." Starbuck shock her head, "Okay, assuming that this isn't some trap, shouldn't we go find the others."

**

* * *

**

Shaw shifted suddenly, almost making Mathias loose her grip. The Marine sergeant quickly double-checked the safety line that connected them, before shining a light in her superiors faceplate.

"What...what happened?" Shaw asked, "Last thing I remember is Thom opening fire."

"We got blow through the window, sir." Mathias reported, "The bay on the other side must have been de-pressurised."

"Frack!" The Major winced, "I haven't felt this bad since the first time I tried ambrosia..."

"_Captain Shaw?_" Starbucks voice cut over the radio, the transmission heavy with interference, "_Sergeant Mathias? Can you hear me?_"

"We read you, Captain." Shaw half smiled, "We're stuck in the middle of some kind of large chamber; can't make out the bulkheads."

"_Okay, you're in..._" There was a hushed conversation on the other end of the line, "_It appears that you're in the aft hanger deck: the emergency doors have locked shut, but there's another way to get to you._"

"You sound very sure of this, Captain." Shaw blinked a few times, trying to clear the bright flashes of colour that still swam before her eyes, "Care to explain?"

"_We found... someone who claims to be a survivor._" Starbuck sounded unusually hesitant, "_I don't see that we have any option but to trust them: there's something else here, on the ship with us..._"

"We know." Mathias spoke up, "They killed Thom."

"_We know._" There was another pause, "_They got Winslow too. But Baltar's okay; just a little shaken_."

"_We're wasting time._" A strange, new voice broke over the com-line, "_We need to get them out of there before the Flood find them._"

"Who the frack was that?" Shaw asked, the last fluffy vestiges of her concussion blasted clear away.

"_That's... The Master Chief._" Starbuck replied, "_I think he's friendly. For now, at least..._"

**To Be Continued...**


	5. And the horse you rode in on

Credits due to _Halopedia_ and _Battlestar Wiki_ for reference material.

**Red In Tooth And Claw  
****Chapter 5: ...and the horse you rode in on**

Starbuck felt a shiver run down her spine as the Master Chief led them down several flights of stairs: they hadn't seen any more Flood, but there was also no sign of Thom.

"This way." The Spartan pointed at a large set of double doors, "We can cut through this cargo bay."

"Any chance that the Flood are in there?" Baltar asked, his finely tuned sence of self preservation kicking in.

"No; this hold hasn't been opened since it was loaded." The Chief shook his head.

"What sort of cargo are we talking about?" Starbuck asked, watching their back, "Anything we can use?"

"Nothing we have time to access." The Spartan called up the inventory on a display screen set into the bulkhead beside the door, "It's mainly emergency rations, spare parts, medical supplies. Maybe a few weapons crates."

"Whoa there." The pilot turned round, "How much are we talking about?"

"Assuming that a standard layout was used, ten 50-ton containers, as well as some self-contained units." The Chief pulled the doors open, the emergency lights automatically flickering on: row after row of metal cargo pods stretched above their heads, almost to the ceiling. Each pod was held within a latticework of bright yellow crossbeams, thruster pods at each corner.

"Is this stuff safe?" Starbuck asked, "I mean, is there any way that the Flood could have gotten to it?"

"I doubt it." The Chief walked over to a podium like console just in from the doors, "All the seals are all still intact."

"Okay, question number two; can we safely get this stuff off the ship?" Starbuck turned to face the Spartan, "Assuming for one insane moment that I trust you, as fracked-up as that would be, we've got people that could use this stuff."

"This is UNSC property." The Spartan looked down at her, "Not open salvage."

"Look, if; and it's a big if we're talking about here." Starbuck smiled, putting her hands on her hips, "But if you're telling the truth about not being a Cylon, then you've got a major problem, because this ship is stuck floating in deep space."

"She has a point you know." Cortana chipped in, "I've hacked as far into their communications network as I can, which is surprisingly far considering it seems to have been set up to stop any incursions, and I'm still not picking up any UNSC signals. So unless you want to go back in the freezer, we have to gain their trust."

"Doesn't mean I have to like it." The Chief grumbled, before typing commands into the console so fast his fingers became a blur. Bright orange hazard lights started to flash above their heads as sirens sounded. He looked at his two human companions, "You might want to grab hold of something..."

Not needing to be told twice, Starbuck and Baltar wrapped their arms around hand rails built into the bulkhead beside the now closed hatch as the Master Chief flicked the cover off of a large red button surrounded by warning labels and slammed one armour-plated palm down on it, hard. A protective layer of glass gave way, and pyrotechnic charges detonated, blowing out the large airlocks lining one entire side of the room. Air flowed out of the room with hurricane strength as hydraulic rams sent the containers out the now open hatches and into deep space. The moment they were outside the hull, their automatic systems kicked in, activating locator beacons, while their thrusters kept them in tight but well spaced out formation.

The sudden rush of air caught Baltar by surprise, and he lost his grip on the handhold. Starbuck reached out to grab him, but their finger tips just brushed against each other. Quick as a rattlesnake, the Master Chief's arm shot out and grabbed the Colonial Vice president, his other hand taking a firm hold console as the howling wind finally died down, the entire room exposed to vacuum.

"Holy fracking shit!" Starbuck gasped, "You could have warned us."

"I did." The Spartan glanced over his shoulder, before walking over to one of the now open hatches and looking out. Unfamiliar stars lit up the sky, while his keen vision picked up the distant shape of a starship. Activating his helmets systems, he zoomed in, the distant form jumping into sharp focus.

"I hate to tell you this, but I don't have anything even approaching that silhouette in my database." Cortana reported, "Hang on, sensors are picking up something approaching at high speed..."

A bright light filled the room as a strange, angular looking craft appeared before them, high-powered searchlights casting long shadows. Shielding his eyes as best he could, the Chief looked in the crafts cockpit and saw the startled expression on the pilots face. Some sixth sence warned him of impending danger, and he managed to dodge out of the way as a powerful chain-gun opened up, sending a silent stream of tracer rounds into the space he'd occupied just moments before. Slinging his shotgun over one shoulder, he quickly drew is Assault Rifle and thumbed off the safety catch. Pressing himself against the edge of the bulkhead, he waited until the gunfire stopped before spinning round, bring his rifle to his shoulder in one fluid motion. The targeting radical on his had changed from green to red, and his finger pulled back on the trigger, sending a burst of .308 Full Metal Jacketed rounds back the other way.

"**CEASE FIRE! CEASE FIRE!**" Starbuck yelled, running across the deck as fast as she could, "**FOR FRACK'S SAKE, STOP FIRING!**"

"_What's going on?_" A new voice came over the radio, "_Captain Thrace, respond!_"

"I'm sorry sir, things are getting a little complicated over here." Starbuck rested a hand on the Master Chiefs shoulder, be he refused to lower his weapon, "I don't know exactly what's going on, but we've lost Winslow, Thom is missing and Sargent Mathias and Major Shaw are stranded in a landing bay..."

"_What the frack is that, thing?_" Another voice asked, "_It almost look out my _Raptor's _window screen!_"

"You fired first, Kat." The other pilot pointed out, "As for who, and what, he is? That's still to be decided. But right now, he's friendly enough."

"I don't take kindly to being shot at." The Chief grumbled, his voice like a roll of distant thunder.

"That I can understand." Starbuck looked over to where Baltar was cowering, "Look, we're wasting valuable time here; we still have to get to Shaw and Mathias, maybe see if we can find Thom."

"Agreed." The Spartan stepped back out of the line of fire, reloading his rifle, "Any other surprises I should know about?"

"For now, no." Starbuck looked over to Baltar, "Hang on; I've got an idea. Kat, swing round and open up: I think our illustrious Vice-President would appreciate a ride back to the Galactica."

"Indeed." Baltar managed to sound more confident and in command than he actually was, "The situation here is obviously more dangerous than we first believed, and someone should report back just what we've found so far."

"_Hate to brake up this party, but I can't get any closer than this._" Kat reported, her _Raptor_ hanging in space twenty meters away, "_Too much debris floating closer to the hull._"

"No problem." The Master Chief walked over to Baltar and grabbed hold of his suit by the neck and belt. Spinning round, he flung the screaming scientist across the distance between the two ships, his aim proving to be true as the Vice-President sailed clear through the open hatch and into the arms of the waiting ECO.

"Nice." Starbuck smiled, "Wish I'd thought of that."

"This way." The Spartan gestured towards the far side of the bay and started walking."

"Just a second." Starbuck activated her Radio, "_Galactica_, Starbuck: Baltar can fill you in on what's happening, and there are some cargo pods that you can try and recover. Recommend extreme caution: this could all still be a Cylon trap."

"_Starbuck_, Galactica-_Actual_. _Acknowledged and good luck._" Adama sounded uneasy, "_May the Gods __stand between you and harm in all the empty places where you must walk_."

"So Say We All." The CAG acknowledged as she turned to follow the Master Chief, "Starbuck, out."

**

* * *

**

"Shine a light over there." Shaw pointed in the general direction that they were floating, "I'm sure I saw something."

"Just a second." Mathias found her flash light and flicked it on, the strong beam piercing the darkness ahead of them to reveal the approaching bulkhead and the Flood infection forms that scurried about its surface.

"Oh Frack me!" Shaw hissed, drawing her side arm and firing, hitting as many as she could.

Mathias likewise started shooting, but for every one they hit, two more took its place. Something else, larger and more menacing appeared out of the shadows, and both women gasped when they saw the torn remains of a Colonial Fleet issue pressure suit still baring the name-tag _Thom_ lurch out of the darkness, the Marines body twisted into some grotesque abomination: one arm still clasped a SMG, while the other had been mutated into three long, whip-like appendages. It looked at them with inhuman eyes, the infection forms swarming at its feet. Shaw recovered enough to fire, her weapons last round doing little noticeable damage. Mathias fired, but her gun jammed, and she flung it at the combat-form in frustration.

"Not like this!" Shaw hissed through clenched teeth, "I can't believe I',m going out like this."

"_Not yet you're not._" Starbuck's voice came over the radio as several high-powered searchlights flicked on, illuminating most of the bay, "_Sorry we're late; had to fight our way in._"

Shaw looked round to see a large delta-winged craft rise up out of the darkness, a figure in dark green armour could been seen through the cockpit of the middle craft. A large, multi-barrel cannon jutted out from under its nose, moving to the side slightly as it started to rotate at high speed. It was odd to see it fire without and sound, bright flashing shooting forth as a shower of spent casing were ejected at high speed, glinting like firefly's before disappearing into the darkness.

The affect on the Flood was nothing short of devastation: the 40mm shells ripped through them with ease, leaving nothing but a thin layer of green/grey ooze on the bulkhead. The constant rain of fire moved from side to side, always staying at least a meter from the two Colonials. Finally, when enough of the flood had been eliminated, the odd looking craft spun round until its rear was facing Shaw and Mathias, a grinning Starbuck holding onto a support strut.

"_You can thank us later._" She laughed as she tossed them a line, and pulled them into the safety of the crew compartment before reaching for the controls to close the hatch. There as a slight jerk as the ship started to move, picking up speed. Starbuck gestured towards another hatch at the front of the compartment, "This way."

The three of them made their way through the mini-airlock into the cockpit beyond just in time to see the stars appear as the ship passed out of the Dawns flight deck and out into open space.

"You'd best buckle in." A gruff voice warned from the other side of a large, armoured pilots seat, "I armed a couple of HORNET mines before we left; a little going away present for the Flood."

"You could have warned me!" Starbuck complained as she took the free co-pilots chair, leaving Shaw and Mathias to grab a flight-seat and strap themselves in as best they could.

The universe behind them lit up with the brilliance of a hundred suns, and it seemed like a giant hand had gripped the _Pelican_ and shock it violently. Alarms started to go off, warning of a series of problems, but no one paid them any attention. Finely, the shaking died away and the universe seemed to calm down.

"Right." The Master Chief stood and looked at his three passengers, "Which one of you is going to tell me just what's going on around here? And what's a 'Cylon'?"

**To Be Continued...**


	6. How To Make Friends And Influence People

**Red In Tooth And Claw  
****Chapter 6: How To Make Friends And Influence People**

The atmosphere in the _Pelican's_ cockpit was so thick that it would have taken an energy sword to cut it: Shaw, Mathias and Starbuck were still strapped into their seats, only the latter able to keep her jaw from dropping open at the sight of the Master Chief. Starbuck reacted by grabbing this discarded shotgun and bring it up and round until it was pointed at the Spartans face, only to find a SMG pointed right back at her, the other covering Shaw and Mathias.

"I told you I don't like being shot at." The Master Chiefs voice was even colder than before.

"And I told you I don't like Cylon traps!" Starbuck shouted back, her finger pulling back on the trigger ever so slightly, "And some how I doubt that you'll be able to shrug this one off quite so easily."

"I keep telling you, I'm not a Cylon." The Spartan reapplied, "I've never even heard of one."

Shaw went to move, but the Master Chief thumbed off the safety catch one the gun pointed at her, indicating that he wanted her to stay just where she was. He may not have been looking at them, but at near point-blank range, it wasn't necessary.

"Hold on, Chief; I'm about to try something." Cortana warned, "Accessing automatic pilot..."

There was a sudden jerk to the right as the _Pelican_ twisted on its long-axis, the inertial dampeners switched off. Caught by surprise, Starbuck started to fall, but pulled the trigger on the shotgun instinctual. But the Master Chief had already stepped forward, inside the effective range of the gun, and the storm of shot did nothing but damage the back of the co pilots seat. His arm came round fast, knocking the weapon from the stunned Colonials hands before she could react and sending it flying across the cabin. Shaw took the opportunity to try and grab the gun pointed at her, and earned herself a knock on the side of the head for her trouble. It wasn't enough to knock her out, but it did send her sprawling into Mathias, and the two of them collapsed back into their seat as the transport returned to an even keel.

Only the Master Chief was still standing, both SMG's still very firmly in his grip.

"I don't like being shot at, and I don't like people pointing guns at my head." He hissed, before moving the guns away into a less threatening position, "But as I'm going to be reliant on you for a ride, at least until I can contact the nearest UNSC outpost or ship, I'm willing to overlook it. This time." Re-holstering his weapons, he held a hand out to Starbuck, recreating their first meeting, "Now, why don't you start with just what a Cylon is, and why you seem to think I'm one?"

**

* * *

"So this thing, this 'Master Chief', just showed up out of nowhere and killed Private Winslow?" Tigh asked, wishing for the hundredth time that he had something stronger than coffee to drink, even if he was on duty, "Is Thrace finally loosing what little sence she had to trust that thing?"**

"I'm afraid that I can't offer a view point on the good Captains state of mind." Baltar looked up from his seat, happy that he'd had time to at least freshen up a little and get changed: no one had warned him how much a space suit would make him sweat so much, "But I have to state that the unknown life-forms killed Private Winslow."

"Frack, for all er know, he sent them." Tigh snorted, "Come on, Bill; we've both seen first hand just how devious the Cylons can be..."

"You don't have to remind me." Adama resisted the urge to scratch the scars that had formed where a trusted member of his crew had put two bullets in his chest when she turned out to be a Cylon sleeper agent. "But Lieutenant Gaeta and Chief Tyrol's people have scanned those cargo pods, and while there appear to be a large number of small arms and some unusual energy reading coming from inside of of them, they appear to be safe enough to bring on board."

"You should have some Marines standing by if you do." Baltar looked up, "The Flood, or at least, what I saw of it, is not something you want to take risks with."

"I'll take that under advisement." The Admiral nodded, "Now I hope you don't take this the wrong way, Mr Vice-President, but you should probably go have a shower; you reek."

"I couldn't agree more." Baltar stood and headed for the hatch, "Perhaps I'll come up with something to make environment suits a little more bearable when I have some free time."

"We won't hold our breath." Tigh muttered when he was sure the door was securely closed, then looked at his old friend, "Damn it to hell, Bill; this situation keeps getting worse and worse. This entire set-up has 'Cylon-trap' written all over it, but Starbuck's just waltzing right in."

"Kara's got better instincts than you give her credit for." Adama shook his head as he lent back against the bulkhead, folding his arm across his chest, "I trust her judgement, and Lee seems to think that we can trust Shaw's."

"But you're still going to let that, thing, whatever the hell it is land on this ship."

"I see no other choice. If we do leave it floating dead in space, the President is going to want to know why. And given the mystery surrounding it all, I somehow don't think that 'it could be a Cylon trap' is going to cut it this time."

"It's a security matter! What that jumped up school teacher wants has no baring on the matter. This Master Chief has already set off one nuke; how do we know it won't try and do the same when it gets on the ship?"

"We don't." Adama admitted, "And that's why we're going to take every precaution we can."

"My Gods; you're going to let Helo's pet Cylon out of her cage, aren't you?" Tigh took a step back in disbelief, "It's not enough that one of those things put two bullets into you in the middle of your own CIC and was behind gods know how many of our little problems leading up to then, but now you practically give her sister the run of the ship!"

"I'd hardly say I'm giving her the run of the ship: she'll be under armed Marine guard the entire time. You may not believe it, but I am beginning to trust her, or at least trust that she is looking out for her own best interests, and that of her daughter."

"I'm getting too old for this, Bill." Tigh sat down, the full burden of his position of third most senior officer in the entire fleet catching up with him, "Hell, back in our day we just shot first and never bothered to ask questions: you knew where you stood then, what was right and what was wrong, and we always seemed to come out on top. But now the line is so fine between Heaven and Hell, that I'm not even sure I can tell the difference."

"It's not our war, not any more." Adama agreed, slipping into his chair, "Hell, when they gave me the _Valkyrie_ and sent us out to the Armistice Line, they didn't want someone who'd debate the nature of war: they wanted someone who'd press the button if the Cylons so much looked across the boarder. But Lee, Kara, Gaeta? They're a different generation: they got taught how to think, to understand why we fight. You and me? We were heart breakers and life takers, because that's what was needed last time round. We didn't worry about any philosophy; we just pulled the trigger and sent as many Cylons to hell as we could, praying the whole damn time that none of them snuck up behind us. That was our war."

"Not to sound to pessimistic, but I miss the simplicity." Tigh smiled wearily, "Give me a _Viper_ and an open sky full of _Raiders_, and I know what to do. These days I have to second guess everything."

"You don't give yourself enough credit: you're still one of the best tactical minds I've ever met. Hell, I've got a copy of that book you wrote around here somewhere. I keep meaning to ask you to autograph it for me."

"Like hell I will!" Tigh looked up, "I never thanked you, not properly, for getting me back into the fleet. If I'd stayed where I was, I'd have been long dead by now: the fleet is the only place I've ever fitted in."

"You and me both, Saul; you an me both."

**

* * *

**

"...and that's pretty much brings us up to now." Starbuck finished, "So, what you got to say for yourself, tin-man?"

"_There are obvious holes in her story; secrets she's trying to keep from us._" Cortana advised, having already analysed, catalogued and filled everything she'd heard for later reference, "_But, like you said yourself, we need a ride: this old bird isn't fitted with a cryo-tube, let alone a slipstream drive._"

"Agreed." The Master Chief nodded slightly, trying to read the body language of his three companions. Deciding that he had nothing left to loose, he slowly removed his helmet, revealing a pale, scared face. His close-cropped hair was starting to go grey around the edges. He looked at Shaw, Starbuck and Mathias with limpness blue eyes, as if scrutinizing them under a microscope, before tucking his helmet under his right arm, "I am Master Chief Petty Officer Sierra-117, United Nations Space Command. I am a SPARTAN II super-soldier. I am humanities sword; I am their shield."

**To Be Continued...**


	7. Half Truths and Reputation

_I dedicate this chapter to the memory of Sir Arthur C Clarke  
__(16 December 1917 - 19 March 2008)  
__Like all great authors, he will live on as long as people continue to read his work._

**Red In Tooth And Claw  
****Chapter 7: Half-Truths and Reputation**

"_Inbound transport on final approach._" The flight-controller reported over the P.A., "_Escort breaking off._"

"I just it on the record, one last time, that I think this is a bad idea." Tigh paced back and forth outside the airlock, his face like thunder.

"Duly noted." Adama nodded, then motioned the the heavily armed Marines standing ready, weapons already pointed at the thick metal hatch, "But I think we've taken enough precautions."

"And her?" The XO waved an arm at a second squad of Marines who stood guard over a shackled Sharon Valerii, Helo standing closer by her side.

"Like I said; precautions." The Admiral nodded as a klaxon sounded, announcing that a ship has just landed. There was a short delay as the universal docking arm found an appropriate match for the _Pelican_ then matched atmospheric pressure. There was a the thud of heavy feet on metal decking, then the hatch swung open, and Starbuck stood before the assembled welcoming comity, a slightly dazed expression on her face.

She walked over to Adama and managed a salute, "I... you need to see this for yourself, sir."

Shaw and Mathias, both saluting but unable to find any words. The room fell deathly silent as something moved in the shadows. Ducking down, the Master Chief stepped through the hatch then straightened himself up, towering over all those present. His head moved from side, his expression unreadable behind his visor. Several of the Marines took an involuntary half-step backwards, while would could have been a curse or a groan cam from Tigh's suddenly dry throat. Valerii look almost pale, her legs giving out beneath her: it was only Halo's strong grip that stopped her from falling.

Amid it all, only Adama was able to maintain his composure as the Spartan walked up until he was standing only few feet away.

"Admiral Adama, I assume?" He asked as he came to attention and offered his best parade-ground saluted, "Master Chief Petty Officer Sierra-117, requesting permission to come aboard, sir."

"Permission granted, for now." Adama returned the salute automatically, "As I'm sure you can understand, we have more than a few questions about just who and what you are..."

"**RECLAIMER!**" Valerii called out, startling everyone.

"What did you just call me?" The Chief's head snapped up sharply, his shoulders tensing as the Marines readied their weapons in case he suddenly turned violent.

"R...Reclaimer." The Cylon stuttered, "You are him, aren't you? The Great Destroyer?"

"Where did you here that name?" The Spartan asked, then cocked his head to the side slightly, "You must be the Cylon Captain Thrace mentioned; the renegade."

"Just what is going on here?" Tigh snapped, his hand resting on the butt of his holstered side arm.

"In our most sacred text, the Reclaimer is the arch-demon, the most unholy." Valerii explained, trying to overcome the compulsion to run and hide, "He defied God and was supposedly cast down from Heaven."

"_We have defied Gods and Demons._" Cortana mused in the Chief's ear.

"I haven't been cast down from anywhere." The Spartan snapped "And the moment I get back to UNSC territory, or at least a ship, the better."

"Where...where are you from?" Adama asked.

"That's classified." The Chief replied, curtly.

"And that'll all he'll say on that." Starbuck shrugged, having regained most of her composure.

"Indeed." Adama mused, "You do realise that I need more than that if I'm going to let on on this ship, especially after what our, 'guest', has just said."

"I grew up on the planet Reach in the Epsilon Eridani system." The Spartan hesitated, "As for where I was born...I don't remember."

"But you are human, aren't you?" The Admiral asked, somewhat sceptical.

"Yes, and no." The Chief stood ramrod straight, "I'd, rather not discus it in such a public setting."

"I see." Adama through on it for a moment, "Colonel Tigh, return to the CIC and get ready to jump back to the rendezvous coordinates as soon as the cargo containers are all on bored and secured. Starbuck, you've some experience with this 'Flood' Dr Baltar told us about; I want you to go help Mr Gaeta inspect the containers one by one for any sighs of infestation. The rest of you, with the exception of Major Shaw, may return to your duties."

Tigh looked like he was going to prostate, but instead just snorted as he started to usher the marines out of the room. He grabbed the rifle from the last one and handed it to Shaw with a nod. The room fell silent except for the sound of combat boots against decking, then the loud thud of an airtight hatch swinging closed and locking.

"You reacted strongly when Sharon called you '_Reclaimer_'." Adama rubbed his fingers against the stubble on his chin, "Why?"

"I've been called that before." The Chief explained, "It wasn't a pleasant experience."

"I hope you an understand my, unease, with this situation." The Admiral folded his arms across his chest, "I take it that either Captain Thrace or Major Shaw explained out situation?" The Spartan nodded, "Then you understand why I have trouble believing that this isn't some over-elaborate Cylon scheme?"

"I am not a Cylon." The Chief stated, "I am...I am going to take a chance that this isn't some Insurrectionist plot, and trust you with information you do not have clearance for." He took of his helmet so he could look the other man in the eye, "I am a SPARTAN II super-solider, created by the United Nations Space Command to protect Earth and her Colonies from all threats..." He cocked and eyebrow at the way Shaw and Adama has frozen "What?"

"Earth?" Adama managed to maintain his composure, "Are you telling me that you're from Earth?"

"No, but I have been there." The Spartan tucked his helmet under one arm, making sure that the cameras hidden in it were giving Cortana a clear view of the room. "Captain Thrace told me your story, and truth be told, I'm having as hard a time belie it as you are believing me. So lets make this real simple: you get the contents of the cargo containers in exchange for giving me a ride."

"Can you tell us the location of Earth?" Shaw asked, even more sceptical than Tigh.

"No: I don't know where here is, so I couldn't plot a course." The Chief shock his head, "And I couldn't even if I wanted to: the Cole Protocols would prohibit it."

"That what?" Adama asked.

"General Order 098831A-1: _To safeguard the Inner Colonies and Earth, all UNSC vessels or stations must not be captured with intact navigation databases that may lead hostile forces to human civilian population centres. Violation of this directive will be considered treason and pursuant to UNSC Military law articles JAG 845-P and JAG 7556-L, such violations are punishable by life imprisonment or execution._" The Spartan explained, reciting the order from memory, "Subsection 7 specifically states that no non-UNSC craft may be taken to human controlled space without an exhaustive search for tracking systems that could lead hostile forces to Human bases. "

"You keep saying 'human' like there's an alternative." Shaw sounded confused, "Are you human?"

"Technically, yes." The Chief cocked his head to the side slightly, "Although my body has been augmented, both surgically and genetically."

"If you are human, why the clarification in the General Order?" Adama asked, perplexed.

The Chief was silent for a moment, trying to work out if it was all some elaborate Insurrectionist trap to try and catch him off guard. He examined Adama's face intently, looking for the slightest hint of deception: while he had limited experience with civilians, he had spent almost his entire life around the military. The older man carried himself as an officer; from his posture to the carefully measured tone in his voice. Was it truly possible that a human colony had gotten so separated from the rest of Earth-controlled space that they had not even heard of the Covenant.

"This is going to take some explaining..."

**

* * *

**

"What you got for me, Felix?" Starbuck asked as she made her way across the impromptu cargo bay that had been created by cordoning off the rear half of the starboard flight pod.

"Four of the pods contain what we think is food, but Doc Cottle's running some tests just to make sure. Two contain weapons, some of which we can identify, some we can't. One, that one over there marked _4077_, contains what we think might be some kind of Mobile Army Surgical Hospital, but we have no idea what half the equipment is." Gaeta handed over a clipboard, " One contained some kind of 4x4 utility vehicle with a rear-deck mountain chain gun, and a couple of ATV's, along with spare parts and repair equipment. Another one is full of what we think might be spare electronics, but we're waiting for Dr Baltar to have a look at them because they're unlike anything I've ever seen before. And the last one? Gods, I don't even know where to start, Sir." He led the way over to the hatchway leading into the container and activated the lights strung up along the racks of equipment it contains, "Have you ever seen anything like this?"

"Yes, yes I have." Starbuck's face light up with a huge grin as she looked at a full suit of MJOLNIR armour, "Felix, I think we've hit the jackpot!" She walked over to the suit and disconnected the helmet, "What do you think: my size?"

**

* * *

**

Adama stood ashen faced, not trusting himself to even speak. He hadn't believed in the myth of Earth when they had first set out. All he'd hoped for was to lose the Cylons and find a habitable planet somewhere to colonize. But after the Tomb of Athena, he had started to believe that there might actually be a Thirteenth Tribe out there. But now he had been informed that Earth could very well be a lifeless, smoking ball of molten glass set amid cold and unfriendly stars, he didn't know what to think.

"But that's a worst case scenario." The Master Chief stated, "We have no way of know how the Covenant Civil War has progressed."

"Yes, but still." Adama looked at the Spartan, "I don't know if I can trust you, and you don't know if you can trust me, and that leaves us at an impasse."

"Indeed." The Chief nodded, feeling more than a little out of his depth. All of his training and experience had been geared towards one goal; defending the United Nations and their colonies. Like almost all the other Spartans, he had no life outside of the service, and little experience of dealing with civilians or anyone who wasn't in some branch the UNSC. "Trust will take time."

"Yes." Adama nodded, "Yes it will."

**To Be Continued...**

_I just want to clear something up:  
__Colonial religion is based on ancient Greek **mythology**.  
__Spartans and the City State of Sparta itself are part of Earth **history**.  
__Ergo, Colonial history has **no** references to Spartans._


	8. Book Of Revelations

_Sorry for the delay; writers block is a bitch._

**Red In Tooth And Claw  
****Chapter 8: Book Of Revelations**

The deck was cold and hard against his back, but it served to heighten his senses. With his eyes closed and breathing controlled through the meditation techniques he had been taught long ago on Reach, the Master Chief was able to detect the faint rumble of the Battlestar's main engines reverberating through the hull. He could hear the low drone of the environmental control systems as they pumped fresh air around. He could even hear one of the sentries outside shifting his weight from side to side nervously.

It had been to days since he'd arrived on the _Galactica_, and he took the fact that he'd been confined to an empty officers cabin rather than the brig as a good sign. He couldn't fault Adama for his scepticism; he knew that he'd feel exactly the same if the positions had been reversed. He'd submitted to every test the ship's CMO, a gruff, chain-smoking man named Cottle, could come up with, but had refused to answer any questions about the nature of his augmentation. That information was still considered among the most highly classified data the UNSC had, and handing it over to near total strangers was one line he was not willing to cross. True, in allowing a possible enemy access to the equipment carried in the supply pods was already borderline treason, he could still hold himself back from the abyss.

He smiled inwardly when he remembered the call that interrupted the conversation between Adama and Cottle: Captain Thrace had found his replacements suit of MJOLNIR armour and had felt compelled to try it on. The built-in computer had automatically locked the suit up when it detected a non-SPARTAN user, and he'd had to explain just how to get it to release her, and why it wouldn't be a good idea to try it again. His description of just what had happened to the last non-augmented human had tried to ware a MJOLNIR suit had been as graphic as he could make it.

In fact, one of the medics assisting Cottle had rushed out of the room, one had clamped across his face when the Chief had gotten to the part about every bone in the unfortunate marines body being ground down into powder after a minor arm tremor. He was sure that no one else would be stupid enough to put either suits on for a very, very long time.

Cottle had been preparing something akin to a CAT-scan when a warning tone had sounded over the ships PA, and then something very strange had happened: It had felt as though someone had grabbed the universe and stretched it out to breaking point, the room growing longer and longer, distorted out of shape. He'd felt a sence of vertigo was over him, and was worried for a second that he was going to throw up all over the hospital gown that was only just covering him now he was out of his armour.

Then the universe had been let go and snapped back into shape with a near physical force.

"What was that?" He'd asked curtly.

"Our FTL drive." Adama had explained, "We just jumped back to where the rest of our fleet was waiting. It can be a little, unsettling the first few times."

"Warn me next time."

After Cottle had runs his tests, Shaw and the Marines had led him to the room he now occupied. Much to his own surprise, it wasn't a cell in the conventional sence of the word. Instead it appeared to be an empty cabin of some description, complete with a wall-mounted bunk that was too short for him and a head. Of his armour there was no sigh, and he was grateful that he'd had the foresight to remove the data-chip that contained Cortana and attached it to his dog-tags. Adama had asked, and he'd said that it contained sensitive information that he was not allowed to let out of his sight. It wasn't a lie, not really: an AI of Cortana's level was a powerful military asset, and given these so-called Colonials disdain for advanced technology and any form of artificial intelligence, it was probably best to keep her away from any prying eyes. The only problem was that without his armour, he had no way to communicate with her.

Taking another deep breath, he continued his meditation.

**

* * *

**

"I have to say, Bill, that I am, unhappy, with recent developments." President Roslin sat behind her desk, looking the rooms only other ocupent in the eye, "I would have thought that you of all people would be sceptical about all of this."

"Sceptical doesn't even begin to cover it, Madam president." Admiral Adama sat back in his seat, returning the ice-cold gaze with everything he had, "But something, call it a gut feeling, is telling me that this 'Master Chief' is telling us the truth. Or at least, as much of it as he wants to."

"So you don't trust him fully?"

"Given everything we've been through, I'd be a fool to trust anyone completely."

"That's reassuring." Roslin put her glasses on and pulled a dusty old book from a draw in her desk, "It took me a while to track this down, but something you said, about Sharon's reaction to our guest, reminded me of something I had read while looking into the legends of Earth." She opened the book at a marked page and squinted to read the faint text, "_And low, a plague fell upon them from out of the darkness beyond the heavens, and brother did make war upon brother, until the skies themselves did bleed. And despite all their power, the Old Ones were laid low, until only one, their bravest warrior, the last of the Reclaimers, survived the fires of battle. And he did cleanse the heavens with holy fire from the the Seven Fortresses, striking down the plague, burning away its evil corruption. And thus the Old Ones fell from grace, and we did weep at their passing._" She closed the book and carefully placed it back in the draw, "This book is the last know copy of its kind; it is a translation of the _Necronomicon Ex-Mortis_, the oldest document in our recorded history, pre-dating the Exodus from Kobol. I won't tell you what it took to track it down and borrow it. It is generally agreed to describe an ancient war fought on Kobol before the beginning of recorded history, but that's really just conjecture. What I find interesting is the similarities between such an obscure text and what our prisoner said."

"If it is a trap, and I'm not saying that it is, then there's every possibility that the Cylons chose such an obscure reference just to make it more believable. But that kind of circular logic leads to paranoia, and while a certain amount of scepticism is helpful, too much can be deadly." Adama rubbed his hand across his chin, wishing yet again that he'd had time to shave before being summoned before the President, "What I find interesting is what Cottle's tests found:the 'augmentation' is more extensive then I first believed possible."

"Yes, I read the very same report." Roslin gestured to a folder laying open on her desk, "Bones treated with an unknown ceramic compound, most likely to improve their resilience to damage. Some kind of implant in the thyroid that seems to have increased skeletal and muscle tissues densities, meaning he's no doubt stronger and faster than any human, even without that suit of armour that his my Vice-President so worked up. Some kind of work on his eyes, giving him improved night vision, and possibly increased nerve conductivity leading to much faster reaction times. All this is of cause conjecture until we get a chance to see him in a combat situation." She looked at her companion over the top of her glasses, "He's not entirely human."

"Nor is he, to the best of our knowledge, a Cylon: the augmentation, the armour and some of the other technology we've found in the supply crates he gave us are far in advance of anything we've seen, outside of the Tomb of Athena." The Admiral counted with a faint smile, "And like I said, something tells me he's telling us the truth, for the most part. And just in case it is a trap, I have Saul watching him for the first sign of hostile intent: I've learnt that it's best not to trust too freely."

"And that's why I want to meet him, this 'Master Chief', face to face." The President held up a hand to silence the protest that was already forming in Adama's mouth, "The fleet rumour mill has already started to turn, and I want to be able to say that I've met him, face to face when the press come at me over him. That and I want to look him in the eye and ask him why I shouldn't just have him thrown out of the nearest airlock..."

**

* * *

**

He didn't sleep, although in his relaxed state any outside observer who didn't know a Spartan would have been forgiven for making the assumption that he was in a very deep sleep indeed. Sleep, why a welcome idea, was not a luxury he could afford until he had a better understanding of the situation. Until then, a meditative state was all he could allow himself.

The sound of soft, civilian-style shoes on the hard deck outside the cabin was the first warning, followed by hushed but insistent questioning by the two guards outside. He contemplated for a moment opening his eyes, but on second thoughts decided that it was best to play possum, at least for the time being. He strained to make out the words, but the thick metal of the hatch reduced the conversation outside to a confused mummer. Still, he was able to make out the tone of the conversation: the guards were unhappy with the newcomer, while they were trying to be as charming as they could.

Eventually the door was opened to admit a tall woman with shoulder-length blond hair, holding what looked like a compact camera in one hand. Deciding that the time for action had finally come, the Chief flexed his leg muscles and sprung to his feet. He knew that he looked imposing, even without his armour; while the years had added little grey to his hair and a few lines to his face, the multitude of scares that criss-crossed his muscular body proved that he had survived everything the universe had thrown at him. He fixed his gaze at the newcomers eyes, almost daring her to give him a reason to attack.

"You must be this Master Chief I've heard so much about recently." Seemingly unperturbed, woman offered her hand with a warm smile, "D'Anna Biers, Fleet News Service: I was wondering if I could ask a few questions?"

**To Be Continued...**

_Sammy, to quote Buzz Lightyear: "You sad, strange little man, and you have my pity. Farewell."_


	9. Games Of State

**Red In Tooth And Claw  
****Chapter 9: Games Of State**

The Chief looked at the woman for a moment, unsure how to react. For as far back as he could remember, the rest of humanity had been split into three groups: his fellow Spartans, UNSC personnel (Dr Halsey fell into this group, even if she was technically a civilian), and the general population. It was no big surprise that it was among his fellow Spartans that he felt most at ease. Having grown up together, they could read each others mood and body language, could sense what their team mates were going to do and react accordingly. It was that sence of oneness that made them so deadly on the battlefield.

Other UNSC personnel were treated with respect due rank and merit; no Spartan would ever disobey an order from a superior officer, assuming that it was legal and did not countermand any standing orders. He had also found that regular humans were capable of bravery and valour equal to any Spartan: Chief Mendez, Master Sargent Johnson, Captain Jacob and Commander Miranda Keyes, Lord Hood and Staff Sargent Mobuto, who he had never met, but had proven his worth attempting to recover the Activation Index for the first Halo.

Civilians on the other hand, were a near total mystery to him. True, he'd met some high ranking government officials when the UNSC had wanted to prove that they were worth all the tax money that had been spent on them, and he'd helped more than one group of refuges escape a Convenient besieged planet, but beyond that he'd had no real contact with the outside world since becoming a Spartan. Not knowing what to do, he fell back on the one piece of advice Mendez had given them on the off chance that they were ever cornered by the press; say nothing.

"Do I take that as a yes?" Biers asked, holding up her camera, the light on the front illuminating the silent Spartans face, "There are rumours going round that you claim to be from Earth, that you're a member of the Thirteenth Tribe?"

The Chief had never been taught to play cards, but he had a natural poker face with no tell.

"I'm sure you can understand our interest." The reporter continued, "We'd all very much like to know if and when you'll be taking us to Earth. Can you tell us roughly how long such a journey would take?"

Without warning, and with the speed and precision of a striking cobra, the Chief's fist shot out and grabbed the camera out of the startled woman's hand, his body moving so fast that it seemed to blur. He examined the camera for a moment, then crushed it in one massive fist, the cheep plastic casing shattering into a thousand shards. Suddenly frightened, Biers backed away towards the hatch, only for it to open up behind her to admit Shaw and a pair of Marines.

"What are young doing here?" The Major asked, glaring at the reporter with such intensity that they should have left her a smoking stain on the deck, "Out! Now!"

Not needing to be told twice, Biers took off with one last glance over her shoulder at the once again motionless Spartan, who watched her leave with hard, blue eyes.

"Still making friends, I see." Shaw gestured towards the crushed remains of the camera, "Come with me: the President wants to meet you."

**

* * *

**

Roslin had always felt ill at ease in the _Galactica's_ small conference room. True, it was larger and better equipped than its counterpart on _Colonial One_, but the bare metal walls of riveted metal were a constant reminder that the _Galactica_ was a Battlestar first and foremost. She looked around the room to see how the other occupants were taking their surroundings. Admiral Adama sat at ease behind his seat, master of all he surveyed. It had become clear early on in their working relationship that when they were on the _Galactica_, his word was law, to be treated as if it was a commandment from Zeus himself.

To Adama's immediate left sat his son, who looked every bit a younger version of his father, somehow managing to make even a duty uniform look dashing. It took a schoolteachers eyes to spot just how uncomfortable he actually was with his recent and sudden promotion, how heavily his rank insignia weighed on his shoulders. She remembered the time they had first met, and she had jokingly addressed him as '_Captain Apollo_', not realising how apt the name was given his father's solid, Zeus like, resolve. But now the son was on the way to surprising the father; if his skills as a pilot weren't so vital to the survival of the fleet, she would have attempted to draw him into the murky world of politics. But she was sure that like any true solider, he liked being able to look his enemy in the face as they did battle.

Baltar stood in the far corner, attempting to hide the fact that he was talking to himself yet again by smoking a cigarette. Roslin regretted, not for the first time, making the undeniably gifted scientist her Vice-President, even if it had blocked Tom Zarek's power play. While Baltar had his uses, utmost amongst which was a total lack of interest in politics, his constant womanising and questionable mental state were drawing unwelcome attention among some of the more critical members of the press. Still, he had served his purpose, and come the next election, she would find a more reliable running mate, like maybe a bilge rat?

Her eyes finally fell on the suit of armour that lay one the table in the middle of the room, its chipped green surface reflecting the harsh lighting. Baltar had gone over it piece by piece, and couldn't find anything that could be positively identified as being Cylon technology. That said, he hadn't found anything that looked like it had been produced by any of the Colonies, either, and seemed to contain more computing power than the _Galactica_. That alone was cause for concern: if the Cylons were able to get hold of the technological advances it represented, then it could spell the final nail in the coffin for the Colonial way of life.

There was a knock on the hatch, and the Marine standing guard opened it to admit Shaw, followed closely by the Master Chief, how managed to look both totally human and somehow alien at the same time. His eyes scanned the room, noticing exits, weapons and working who would be a problem in a fight. In a matter of seconds he was able to formulate six ways of getting out of the room should things turn bad, two of them involved recovering his armour in the process, assuming that it hadn't been tampered with or otherwise booby-trapped.

"Master Chief, I'd like to introduce Laura Roslin, President of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol, my son, Commander Lee Adama of the Battlestar _Pegasus_." The Admiral introduced everyone, "I believe you've already met Dr Baltar, our Vice President."

"Madam President, Commander." The Spartan nodded politely, standing at ease with his hands behind his back, "Doctor."

"Well, it's nice to finally meet you, Master Chief." Roslin examined him over the top of her glasses, "And with all due respect to your rank, 'Master Chief Petty Officer 117' is a bit of a mouthful. I take it you have a name."

"Yes." The Chief nodded, his eyes fixed straight ahead, his back ramrod straight.

Roslin waited for a couple of minutes that seemed to drag on forever, then carefully removed her glasses and set them down on the notepad before her, "Care to tell us what it is?"

"With all due respect, ma'am, no." The Chief remained perfectly still, "You do not have the necessary clearance; the true names and identities of any and all members of the Spartan Corp. is considered _Top Secret/Eyes Only_."

"So you're not going to tell us?" Apollo asked.

"Are you a senior officer within the United Nations Space Command?" The Spartan countered.

"No." The former fighter pilot admitted.

"Then you have your answer." The Chief's tone of voice remained calm and level, "I have agreed to answer some of your questions out of necessity, but there are limits. Do not attempt to cross them."

"Do you know where Earth is?" Baltar looked up, taking an active interest in the proceedings for the first time, "In relation to our current location, that is."

"Not without access to a star chart, no." The Chief shook his head, "And even if I did, giving you such information would countermand several standing orders."

"Are you a Cylon, or part of a Cylon plot?" Roslin asked, taking her glasses off and careful placing them on the table before her, "I only ask because a straight answer would save us all so much time."

"No." The Spartan cocked his head slightly to one side, "Are you part of an insurrectionist plot against the UN and her government?"

"No, but I admit that I have about as much evidence of that as you do that you're not a Cylon." Roslin admitted, "Less, in fact, given that our people have run every test they can on you and while they find your unique physiology, interesting, you do not appear to be a Cylon. Or should I say, unlike any Cylon we've yet encountered."

"What the President is trying to say is that we don't know what to do with you." Adama leaned forward, "Your very presence on this ship presents me with a number of security problems, but not a many as setting you among the civilian population would. At least here, I can keep an eye on you. Having discussed this with the President and my Son, we have come to the conclusion that we will have to place you under quarantine until such time that we can conform, one way or another, just what you are. Fortunately we have an area within the starboard flight-pod that can be sealed off from the rest of the ship. It's not much; a few machine shops and a disused wardroom, but it will let us keep you away from the rest of the crew and any such civilians as may be on board the _Galactica_. You will not leave this area without permission from either myself or Colonel Tigh, and at no time may you carry a loaded side-arm. We will allow you to install any support equipment you need from your ship and the supply pods you gave us, and I will assign an officer to act as your liaison. But I ask you, for your own safety as much as anything else, maintain a low profile; there are those in this fleet who are likely to take a dim few of a 'cyborg' such as yourself."

**To Be Continued...**


	10. The Long Game

_Beginning the_ Razor _story-ark now, so if you've not seen that, you might want to skip the next few chapters, as there will be spoilers._

**Red In Tooth And Claw  
****Chapter 10: The Long Game**

"Two crates of M6D Pistols. Two crates of M7 Submachine Guns. Two crates of M60A combat Shotguns. Once crate of SRS99D-S2 AM Sniper Rifles. Two crates of BR55HB SR Battle Rifles. Three crates of MA5C Assault Rifles. Four crates of M9 Fragmentation Grenades. One crate of M19 SSM Rocket Launchers. One crate of M7057 Flame-throwers. Nasty looking fracker, that one." Gaeta shock his head as he turned the page over and continued the inventory, "One crate of M6 Galilean Non-linear Rifles, whatever that means. Two crates of M247 General Purpose Machine Guns. One crate of AIE-486H Heavy Machine Guns. One crate of M41 Light Anti-Aircraft Guns, not counting the one attached to the back of that A.T.V. from the other pod. One crate of M68 Gauss Cannons, one of which Dr Baltar has taken for analysis. Then we've got a couple of dozen boxes of ammunition, assorted calibres, replacement parts and repair equipment. As well as enough body armour for an entire company of marines and a whole stack of equipment we've put in a pile marked '_unknown_', because, well, we have no idea what it is." He looked up from his clipboard and shook his head, "I have no idea what our 'guest' and his friends were going up against, but if this is just the contents of one of their reserve supply pods, I'd hate to see what they consider to be a regular combat load."

"Frack me sideways: there are enough weapons here to fight a small war" Starbuck took the clipboard and double checked the numbers, refusing to believe them the first time, then handed the files back to the Lieutenant, "That's it; I want to be the Master Chief's liaison. With access to this kind of fire-power, along with what ever the frack it is their use for capital ship combat, we'd stand a fighting chance against the Cylons."

"So you believe him?" Gaeta asked sceptically, "You believe he's not a Cylon?"

"I've seen him in action, Felix; if he was a Cylon, we'd all be dead by now." The fighter pilot opened her arms to take in the entire room, "I mean, look at all of this; weapons that can probably take the head off of a Centurion at long range? Medical technically far in advance of anything we've ever seen? And as for that armour of his? If the Cylons had that sort of technology, they wouldn't have needed to cripple our defences and nuke us from orbit; they could have just walked in and handed us our collective asses, and there wouldn't have been a Gods-damn thing we could have done about it."

"You think the Admiral will let you be his liaison?" The Gaeta raised an eyebrow, "I thought you were supposed to be the new CAG over on the _Pegasus_?"

"_Captain Thrace, please report to the_ Pegasus." The PA announced, as if on cue, "_Captain Thrace to the_ Pegasus."

"Story of my life." Starbuck shrugged, then grabbed one of the pistol off of the table where it had been placed along side examples of all the other weapons. She popped the magazine and looked at the heavy, .50-calibre bullet for a second, before reloading it and working the slide; the mechanism moved with fluid, easy grace, the weight of the weapon comfortable and reassuring in her hand, "I'm going to take this, anyone has a problem with that, tell them to come see me personally."

**

* * *

**

The armour slipped on like second skin, warm and inviting. While Spartans where not required to ware their suits outside of combat, most did. The psychiatrists couldn't decide if it was out of a need to be ready for anything, all the time, or some deep-seated feeling that they were naked without it. Either way, no Spartan felt truly whole without their armour. It also allowed him to reintegrate the chip holding Cortana, bringing back the only person he knew he could trust.

"_So,_" The AI asked the moment she had made sure his suit was secure and free of any bugging devices, "_what I miss?_"

"They don't trust me, but they're also not willing to take the risk that I'm not telling the truth." The Chief explained as he started unpacking some of the equipment he had been able to secure from the supply pods without drawing any unwanted attention. The most important part with a micro generator that could be connected to the palm sized holographic-emitter he had removed from the _Pelican_. With it hooked up and running, he'd be able to have a face-to-face discussion with Cortana, "But they're going to keep us around, under guard, for the time being."

"_About what I'd expected._" The AI contemplated their situation for a moment, "_I can't see any insurrectionist group being willing to risk letting a Spartan run around their ship, guarded or unguarded. Add to that the rather unorthodox design of this ship and the strange reading I picked up when they fired the FTL drive..._"

"You believe them?"

"_Let's just say that I'm open to the possibility. I mean, given all we've seen and done, I can think of a couple of explanations for what they've told us so far._"

"Anything you care to share?"

"_Well, we could have been drifting in space a lot longer than we first anticipated, but that doesn't explain how the_ Dawn's _emergency reactor was still hot enough to keep us both going. The only other option I can think of is..._"

"What?"

"_I'd rather not say until we have a better understanding of their recorded history._"

"I don't like you holding out on me."

"_Like I said, I need more information before I can complete my hypothesis. Until then, call it a hunch, okay?_"

"I don't like hunches."

"_Have I ever steered you wrong?_"

"Don't get me started..."

**

* * *

**

"OH FRACK!" Starbuck hissed through clenched teeth as she dodged through the _Pegasus'_ flack barrage and lined her battered _Viper's_ nose up with the Battlestar's landing bay. Easing back on the power just a little, she raised her nose up, trying to ignore the antiquated Cylon _Raider_ on her tail and the twin streams of tracer rounds that passed within arms reach of her cockpit.

The _Viper_ hit the deck so hard it felt like some angry God had unleashed their wrath upon it, followed closely by the _Raider_, its larger wings clipping on the narrow entrance. The Viper's port rear landing strut gave way under the assault, snapping cleanly in two and dropping the wing to the deck. There was a sickening moment as the _Pegasus_ jumped back to the waiting fleet, then some unseen obstruction on the deck span the _Viper_ round until it was facing the _Raider_ head-on. Both craft shook violently as they made their way down the length of the flight-deck, finally coming to a stop in a tangled mess of wreckage. Shaken by the forced landing, it took Starbuck a moment to notice the movement within the cockpit of the downed _Raider_, but some sixth sence made her look round in time to see the emergency hatch blow open just below the cockpit. There was a flash of gold amid the smoke and tangled wires, and Starbuck sucked in a breath as a battered Centurion started to pull itself free of the wreckage.

Starbuck looked round; her controls were dead, communications off line, turning her fighter into a massive paperweight. Reaching down, she found the controls for the ejector seat and deactivated the rockets connected to her chair. Closing her eyes for a second, she pulled the yellow and black striped lever as hard as she could. The flash of detonating explosive bolts was visible, even through her tightly clenched eyes, and the _Viper_ shook as the canopy was blown clear. Reaching down. She could the holster on her hip, pulling the M6D clear just as the Centurion got clear and stood on two shaky feet, its menacing red eye pulsing slowly from side to side, before locking onto her downed fighter. Gripping the pistol with both hands, Starbuck thumbed off the safety catch and fired. The lack of atmosphere meant that there was no sound, but the heavy kick from the Earth-built weapon was almost enough to wench the pistol out of her grip. Starbuck adjusted her aim and carefully pulled the trigger a second time.

This time her aim was true, and the heavy round struck dead centre in the Centurions visor. The glass like material was designed to stop anything short of an explosive tipped round, but it had never been tested against a weapon that had been built to punch its way through a Covenant personal energy shield. The 12.7x40mm M225 Semi-Armour-Piercing High-Explosive round went through, deforming so much that it lacked the power needed to get through the harder material that the rear of the Centurions head was made of. While damaged, the Centurion was by no means out of the fight, until a split second later the high explosive core of the bullet lodged in the back of its head detonated. Starbuck brought both of her arms up to fend off any debris that came her way, but the explosion was only powerful enough to shatter the Cylons head like a firecracker going off inside an old tin-can.

"Frack me!" Starbuck looked at her gun in astonishment, "Where have you been all my life?"

**

* * *

**

"That should do it." The Chief took a step back to get a better look at his handy work; it had taken him several hours to rig up a connection between the generator and the projector, but the last diagnostic he'd run came back green across the board, indicating that the system was working perfectly.

"_That God for that._" Cortana chuckled, "_It was getting a little cramped in here._"

"I'll remember you said that, next time." The Spartan replied as he reached round for the data-chip. It popped out with an slight click, the glowing crystal in the middle containing everything that was Cortana. He looked at it for a moment, still surprised that something so small could contain something so powerful, then slid it into the awaiting socket in holo-pad. There was a moment of silence, then a fountain of light erupted out of the flat glass surface. It swirled around for a moment, then reformed as a foot high representation of Cortana.

"_Much better._" The AI smiled as she looked up at the Spartan, "How long until you get get the rest up an working?"

"That's going to take time." The Chief looked round at the piles of equipment that lay scatted around the abandoned workshop, "I have to do it all on my own; I don't trust anyone enough to ask for their help, and even if I did, I doubt any of them would know where to start."

"_I recommend getting the security system up and running first._" Cortana cocked her head to one side, "_I take it you did check for bugs and data-taps?_"

"First thing I did; I found the ones they wanted me to find, as well as the ones they didn't."

"_That's probably going to upset them, but I somehow doubt that they'll kick up a fuss about it. Do we have access to their main computer from here?_"

"No, and it's probably best if we leave that be, at least for now."

"_Agreed, the last thing we want to do is..._" Cortana stopped and spun round, her hair whipping around her head, "_Someone's coming!_" There was a flash of light as she disappeared, just seconds before the main hatch opened to admit Adama and one of the Marines stationed outside.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything?" The Admiral asked.

"Not at all, Sir." The Chief shook his head, "I was just starting to unpack."

"I'm afraid that's going to have to wait for a little while." Adama handed over a folder of photographs depicting the broken remains of the crashed Cylon _Raider_ and its crew, "Something has come up that I would like your opinion on, as an outsider."

The Chief looked at the photos, examining every detail. He noted the apparent thickness of the Centurions outer casing and compared that to how much damage they had taken, then ran the numbers in his head to work out tensile strength and potential weak spots. He noted the retractable blade built into one arm, approximating its effectiveness against his shields and armour. He also looked at a close up of one of the guns each carried, noting the dimensions of the barrel and magazine, working out its power-to-weight ratio and magazine capacity.

"Depending on speed and agility, no doubt more than capable of defeating several humans in hand-to-hand combat." He summarised, "At medium to long range, large calibre or high velocity weapons firing a combination of armour-piercing and high-explosive ammunition should negate their advantages, but that would still be dependant on accuracy and angle of impact; the sloped nature of the armour indicates that anything but a direct hit would risk deflecting off causing minimal damage."

"Pretty much what our military manuals say." Adama nodded, "I've got missing people; a group of scientist and two flight crew. We're planning a mission to get them back, and we...and I, would like your help."

**To Be Continued...**


	11. The Road To War

_Continuing the_ Razor _story-ark, so there will be spoilers.  
__Also, respect due to the guys at _Rooster Teeth_; hope you like the joke and don't sue..._

**Red In Tooth And Claw  
****Chapter 11: The Road To War**

"This is a BR55HB SR Battle Rifles. It is the standard issue automatic-rifle for all UNSC forces." The Master Chief stood in front of Shaw, Starbuck, Sargent Mathias and the other Marines selected for the mission. He knew that his armour intimidated them, but it allowed him to keep Cortana in the loop, and the AI had a knack for picking up on things he missed. His well trained, experienced hands quickly disassembled the rifle into its component parts, "It carries 36 9.5x40mm M634 Experimental High-Powered Semi-Armour-Piercing rounds in a bullpup magazine located in the stock. It has a muzzle velocity of 600 m/s, with a fire rate of 900 rounds-per-minute in 3-round bursts." He reassembled the weapon, "Major Shaw, if you would like to go first?"

"Okay." The _Pegasus'_ XO took the offered weapon and walked up to the firing line, aiming the rifle down the range before slipping the magazine into place and pulling back the bold, chambering the first round. Pulling the stock tight against her shoulder, she looked through the scope at the targets set up at the far end of the range. Chief Tyrol had managed to put together a number of replica Centurions of the type they were expecting to face during the rescue mission. Placing the illuminated cross-hairs over the plate of armour that made up the mock-Centurions chest, she flicked off the safety catch with her thumb then gently squeezed back on the trigger.

The Battle Rifle let out a dull rattle as it fired a three-round burst that left one large dent in the armour plate, the middle of which showed a single breach through to the brightly coloured marker beyond.

"I somehow expected something..." Starbuck shrugged, "I don't know, more impressive?"

Not sawing a word, the Chief pulled his MAC5 Assault Rifle and took up position in the next lane to Shaw. Pulling the rifle into his shoulder, but not as far as the Major had, he let the floating targeting radical on his HUD fall over the same spot on the next target and pulled the trigger. This time the sound of gunfire filled the air in one long, drawn out rattle as the Spartan fired a full 32-round magazine at the Centurion, peppering it with holes. It fell over backwards, it's head rolling across the floor until it reached the far wall and stopped.

"Better?" He asked, his voice as cold as liquid nitrogen.

"Much." Starbuck nodded, her eyes locked on the shattered remains of the target.

"Major Shaw, if you'd care to fire again." The Spartan took a step back, reloading his rifle, "Aiming for the same point as last time."

Shaw looked at the other Colonials and shrugged. Reaming the rifle, she pulled the trigger a second time, and all three rounds penetrated the target, widening the hole left by the first three.

"This is why I have recommended the BR55." The Chief explained, "Given the limitations on how much ammunition you can carry, and the probably close confines you will be fighting in, it makes a much better choice of weapon."

"Sounds good to me." Shaw stood, rifle pointed at the ceiling "We'll take 'um."

"What about the rest of the equipment?" Mathias asked, "Body armour? Communications?"

"The supply pods contain several crates of M52B body armour, standard issue for all UNSC ground forces." The Chief pointed at a humanoid dummy set up at the end of the firing range next to the Centurions; it was dressed in a full set of BDU's and a helmet. He picked up a side-arms recovered from one of the destroyed Centurions and pointed it down range. The gun barked three times, each round hitting dead centre on the armour, rocking the dummy back on its stand. "The central ceramic trauma plate is designed to withstand the sort of damage you'll be facing, but it has its limitations; multiple his can weaken it to the point of failure. The CH252 combat helmet likewise offers some protection, and contains integrated encrypted digital communications equipment. Given that the Cylons have, to the best of our knowledge, never encountered UNSC encryption before, it is unlikely that they will be able to brake it."

"All very well and good, but this is still a fools mission." Shaw walked over to the Spartan and looked up at his helmets mirrored visor, "You want to prove you're not a Cylon? Come with us."

"_That might not be a bad idea._" Cortana suggested, "_We need to keep on their good side if we want to keep hitching a ride, and I would like a chance to look around a Cylon main-frame. If nothing else, it'll give us the other side to the story._"

"If I go with you, there are rules." The Chief warned, "I need to know I can trust you at my back with a loaded weapon."

"Funny, I was thinking exactly the same thing." Shaw's gaze seemed to carry through the mirrored surface of the visor, "You see, you may have the Admiral and Captain Thrace over there convinced, but me? I'm still keeping an eye on you, because I know your hiding something. I don't know what, and I don't know why, but I know you're hiding something. So I am going to be watching you like a hawk, and if you do _anything_ that puts _my_ team in danger, then I guess we'll find out just how tough you really are."

The Chief stood motionless; he had to admire her courage in standing up to him like she was. Very few people had the nerve to get so close to a Spartan with a hostile manor, and it was obvious that if she felt he had betrayed or endangered them, she would do everything in her power to carry out her threat.

"_I like this one._" Cortana sounded impressed, "_She has spirit._"

"I think we understand each other." The Chief nodded, "From what I understand of your plan, we'll be in EVA for part of the mission. There should be some replacement parts for my armour in one of the supply pods, including a thruster-pack for zero-gravity operations."

"That can be arranged." Shaw nodded as she headed for the hatch, followed by Mathias and the other Marines, "He's all yours, Thrace."

"Okay then." Starbuck smiled, "The Admiral has assigned me as your liaison officer, so I guess you should follow me."

The two of them made their way through the Battlestar, the Chief's heavy foot-falls shaking the deck as they went. While the ships rumour mill had spread word of his presence, very few people had actually seen him, and a Spartan in full armour was still an awe inspiring sight. Officers and crew alike would stop what they were doing and watch has he marched past them without a glance, conversations dying as he came into sight. He was use to the reaction, even among seasoned combat veterans: even though the public on Earth and her colonies had been aware of the existence of Spartans for more than two decades, there were few photos and they were almost never seen outside of a combat zone. This lent them an almost mythical air, making them appear even larger than life.

Fortunately, the starboard flight pod was still almost completely deserted, and they were able to make good time to the disused repair bay that had been pressed into service to hold the cargo pods.

"May I introduce, our new Light-Reconnaissance vehicle." A Marine with Gunnery-Sargent's strips stood in front of the _Warthog_ that had been inside of of the supply pods, "It has 4-inch Armour Plating; mag-bumper suspension, a mounted machine gunner position and total seating for three. Gentlemen, this is the M12 LRV, otherwise known as the _Warthog_."

"Why '_Warthog_,' Sir?" One of the Marines asked.

"Because '_M12 LRV_' is too hard to say in conversation, son." The NCO explained.

"No, but, why '_Warthog_'?" The Marine asked again, "I mean, it doesn't look like a pig..."

"Say that again?" The Sargent blinked, confused.

"I think it looks more like a Puma."

"What in Sam Hell is a 'Puma'?"

"It's a big cat, like a lion."

"You're making that up!"

"I'm telling you, it's a real animal!"

"Simmons!" The Sargent turned to a third Marine, "I want you to poison Grif's next meal!"

"Yes, Sir!" Simmons saluted.

"How those guys made it trough basic, I have no idea." Starbuck shook her head in amazement and continued on to the next supply crate, "Your gear should still be in here."

The Chief nodded and stepped through the open hatch into the crate; replacement parts and repair equipment filled every available space, leaving very little room to move, especially for someone wearing a full suit of MJOLNIR battle armour. Still, it didn't take long to locate a large metal box marked '_V-variant_'. Taking hold of it with both hands, he lifted it up and swung it onto one shoulder, then turned to face an impressed Starbuck.

"The rest of this will have to be moved to my workshop." He stated with a neutral tone, "You're my liaison officer; liaise."

"I'll get Chief Tyrol's people on it." The pilot nodded as they made their way back outside, "Anything else you need while we're here?"

"No, I'm good." The Spartan walked away with the box balanced over his shoulder, "I'll be ready in an hour."

* * *

Shaw looked at her strike team; the Marines looked grim-faced but determined, while Starbuck was her regular cocky-self, her devil-may-care attitude even more annoying than usual. The big difference was the towering presence of the Master Chief, who somehow managed to look more intimidating than normal. His armour had undergone some major changes, most noticeable of which was the large visor without the brim, and the bulky chest plate with built in RCS thrusters to facilitate ease of movement in weightless conditions. She had already asked him about potential loss of mobility once they boarded the target Basestar, but he had reassured her that it was not the first time he had undertaken such an operation.

"Make no mistake people, the mission we are about to embark upon is extremely dangerous, but we do not leave people behind." She addressed the _ad-hoc_ team, "We have two objectives. First, locate and recover our people, secondly, destroy the Basestar by detonating a nuclear warhead on a time-delay fuse. If any of you, for any reason, feel that you are not able to carry out this mission, now is the time to step down. Because once we start, there is no turning back."

No one moved, and Shaw nodded as she secured her helmet and led the way over to the waiting _Raptor_. She counted them aboard, Starbuck taking the pilots seat. The Master Chief was last, having to move to one side to let the Major past before closing the hatch. The presence of his armour made the inside of the scout craft more claustrophobic than normal, but the Marines accepted it without complaining.

"This mission is so fracked up it's not funny." One of them commented as the hydraulic lift raised the _Raptor_ up onto the flight deck, "We're all dead," He cocked his head towards the Master Chief, "Even the Jolly Green Giant there."

"Spartans' never die." The Chief repeated the old lie used to hide losses from a public that badly needed to believe in its heroes, then remembered something Sargent Johnson had once said on the subject, "They just go to hell and regroup."

"Stow your bitching, Tucker." Mathias snapped, "You had your chance to be scared before you joined my beloved Corps."

"_Nice to know you still have your sence of humour._" Cortana added dryly as the _Raptor_ took to the air with a lurch, "_And it stated out as such a nice suicide mission..._"

**To Be Continued...**

_If you've not seen_ Red vs Blue, _then you can't call yourself a_ Halo _fan..._


	12. The Prometheus Gambit

_Continuing the_ Razor _story-ark, so there will be spoilers.  
__The last thousand odd words of this chapter have been ready for a while now, although I have dropped hints over at the Space Battles forum._

**Red In Tooth And Claw  
****Chapter 12: The Prometheus Gambit**

The _Raptor_ shook violently as a missile exploded just meters away, peppering the crafts hull with shrapnel. Starbuck activated the smoke canister that made it look like they had taken terminal engine damage, and the Chief brassed himself just seconds before the hatch blew out, the escaping air sucking him out into space. He felt the tug of the safety line as it started to pull the others out of the stricken craft, and he activated the thrusters attached to his armour, righting himself and pulling further away from the _Raptor_. Looking at his HUD, he counted them out, the small transponders in their UNSC issue combat helmets giving of a weak but steady signal. It was too faint to be picked up by the Cylons unless they got into visual range, and if that happened, then the mission would have been placed in terminal jeopardy anyway. The last one had just made it clear of the danger zone when a missile streaked in, homing in on the abandoned _Raptor_. The Chief's eyes scanned for a Raider, but found non in visual range.

"Okay people, let's move." Shaw ordered, aliening herself so she could see the Basestar; it's odd design looking like a hybrid of the original, Colonial built Cylon capital ship and the modern, starfish shaped design, "Master Chief, take us in."

"Sir." The Spartan acknowledged the order and activated the main thrusters on the back of his suit, towing the others behind him. He worked hard to maintain his steady breathing rate, but the adrenalin was already starting to pump through his veins in readiness for the upcoming fight.

"_Why don't you let me drive?_" Cortana suggested, "_You've got enough on your mind right now._"

"And you don't?" The Chief asked as he flipped the thrusters over to automatic.

"_I'm a woman; we're better at multi-tasking._" The A.I. replied, "_Believe me, guiding you and the other cavemen to a fixed point in space is hardly taxing. But I am looking forward to having a crack at another computer system; I've picked up a few tricks over the years that weren't in my original programming._"

"Just remember to stick to the mission." The Spartan reminded her, "We get our people out, we blow the ship and go home."

"_Since when did they become 'our' people?_" Cortana asked as they crossed the last few meters to the Basestar, "_You're not going native on me, are you John?_"

"No." The Chief shook his head, unsure why he'd made the uncharacteristic mistake, "And since when did you start calling me by my first name?"

"_We've been through a lot together._" Cortana mused, "_It just felt like a natural progression. After all, _you_ never call _me_ UNSC A.I. CTN 0452-9._"

"We'll talk about it later." The Chief reached out and grabbed and handhold, then started to pull himself towards the nearest airlock, "Right now, we have other things to deal with."

"_Rodger._" Cortana replied as she likewise slipped into mission mode, "_Find a data-access port and __I'll see what kind of havoc I can cause._"

The Chief pressed the palm or his right hand against the control panel for the air-lock; there was a faint golden shimmer as Cortana downloaded herself into the Basestar's mainframe. There was a momentary pause, then the outer door cycled open, just as the rest of the raiding party arrived.

"_Nice work, Master Chief._" Starbuck smiled as she pulled her self into the Cylon ship, the artificial gravity taking hold and pulling her down to the deck. She landed with cat-like grace, drawing her rifle and checking to see if anyone was waiting for them in the hallway beyond, "_Okay, looks clear so far._"

"_Good._" Shaw swung the hatch shut and hit the re-pressurisation switch, "_But chances are they're going to notice us sooner or later._"

"Later is fine by me." Starbuck winked as the pressure equalised and the inner door opened, "Let's go."

"I'm getting a faint trace of their emergency beacons." The Chief reported, gesturing down one of the side corridors, "Fifty meters that way."

"I'm getting the same." Mathias nodded, holding up her own portable scanner.

"Let's go." Shaw looked round, her eyes even colder and harder than usual, "Master Chief, you have point. Thrace, stick close to him. Mathias, watch our backs. Rest of you, follow me."

**

* * *

**

Cortana swam through a sea of data, immersing herself in digital information. She danced through fire walls and anti-virus software like a ghost, leaving no trace of her passing. This was what she had been created for, her very reason to exist, and she revelled in it. Secure directories opened up on her command, allowing her to copy information for later analysis while she simultaneously planted time-delayed virus. Upon finding the core program, she acted with the deft hand of a skilled surgeon, installing a logic-bomb containing a copy of her personality and the Covenant A.I. copier she had discovered on board the _Ascendant Justice_ during their rather eventful journey back to Earth following the destruction of the first Halo.

When activated, the logic bomb would copy the duplicate exponentially until to overloaded every computer on the ship until they all crashed. It was a crude but effective method of attack, and would do until she had a better understanding of Cylon programming codes and system architecture. She wished that she'd had a chance to talk to the prisoner known as Sharon; she had a feeling that there was a lot she could learn about the Cylons from just asking the right questions.

**

* * *

**

The raiding party started to make their way deeper into the Basestar, careful to make as little noise as they could. The ship was unnervingly quiet, its slanted walls and red combat lights lending it an oppressive atmosphere. Carefully, pausing every time they hear even the faintest sound, they made their way towards the beacons, not knowing of the men they'd been sent to rescue would even be with their equipment. Finally they came to a heavily reinforced hatch. The Chief held his rifle at the ready as he tabbed the controls, and it slid open.

Inside was a room fit for nightmares; dried blood covered the walls and floor, as well as what looked like examination tables spaced out under bright flood-lights. Men in colonial uniforms were strapped to three of them, while the remains of a fourth occupied another. The Chief heard on of the Marines behind him reach, and he he didn't blame them. He'd seen more than his fair share of battlefield, including what the Covenant and Flood could do. But this was much worse, almost mechanical in its design: it was nothing less than a workshop for removing body parts and internal organs from living humans to be used elsewhere. He hadn't fully believed what the Admiral had said about what he had seen at the end of the first Cylon war, but all doubt was now gone, bashed by the harsh light of reality.

"Gods..." Starbuck croaked, her legs threatening to give way.

"The Gods?" Shaw asked almost mockingly, "What makes you think they have anything to do with this?"

The Chief looked at the two women for a moment, then walked over to the nearest prisoner; he was in deep shock, only semi-conscious. He looked up at the Spartan and his mouth opened to scream, but his throat was too raw.

"It's okay." The Chief held up one hand reassuringly, "We're here to take you home."

"You heard the man." Shaw snapped, as much to herself as the others, "Let's move like we got a purpose; the _Pegasus_ isn't going to wait for ever!"

Snapped out of whatever nightmares were running though their heads, the Marines released the bonds holding the prisoners to the tables and gently helped them to their feet while the Chief watched the door. He was the first to hear the rhythmic thud of advancing Centurions just moments before new contacts appeared on his motion sensor.

"We've got company." He warned, bring his Battle Rifle to the ready.

"Marines, we are leaving!" Mathias hissed as she readied her own weapon.

Deciding that it was better to take the initiative rather than risk being boxed up, the Chief advanced down the hall way, stopping half-way between the others and the nearest intersection. He stood, as still and unmovable as a mountain, until the first Centurion came into view. His instincts took over as he brought the targeting radical round in line with its chest plate and pulled the trigger twice. The rifle barked six time, the heavy bullets proving to be most effective as they tore a ragged hole through the armour, but failed to hit anything sensitive or critical. A third burst finished the job, sending the Cylon down with sparks flying out of its chest, but the delay had giving its companion enough time to draw its own weapon and open fire. The Chief's shields flared as bullets stuck home, throwing off his aim for a split second. Fortunately Mathias and Starbuck were at the ready, taking down the Centurion in short order.

"We're going to have to make a run for it." The Chief warned, "Stay close behind me: I don't want to leave anyone behind this time..."

With that he started down the corridor at a brisk walk, weapon at the ready. His HUD was showing multiple contacts, but the Cylons had started broadcasting a jamming single that made it hard to pinpoint their exact location. They encountered more, in ones and twos, as they continued their advance, the Chief always careful to keep himself between the Cylons and the others following on behind. Eventually they reached a cross-roads where the Cylons had had time to prepare a defensive line, using all available cover to protect themselves.

This was a worrying development, as by the Master Chief's calculations, they would soon be running low on ammunition.

One of the Centurions crouched down then leaped forward, flying through the air with both arms outstretched; its single red eye fixed, unmoving, on the Master Chief. Against a regular human, the attack would have been fatal, but against a Spartan, things were very different: a massive armour-clad fist swung round like the Wrath of God, connecting with the Centurion's head before the Cylon had a chance to react. Armour plating designed to turn aside heavy calibre gunfire crumpled, and internal circuitry shattered as the Chief's fist tore through the Centurion's head before slamming it into the bulkhead with enough force to leave a fist-sized indentation in the thick sheet metal.

While all this was going on, the Spartans other hand was grabbing one of his plasma grenades and bring it round for an over-arm throw. His thumb armed it at the last possible moment, and it streaked through the air trailing a cloud bright blue energy. It struck a Centurion high on the shoulder and stuck fast, fizzing for a second before detonating with a blinding flash. Even in the close confines of the passage way, the grenade did little blast damage, but the localised EMP burst scrambled their CPU's, turning them into so much scrap metal.

"Oh frack me!" Mathias hissed as even more Centurions appeared, marching down the passage way headless of the damage they were tacking. One, a golden command unit, stopped and raised one hand; the others stopped firing and came to attention in adherence to the unspoken order.

"_We have been expecting you, Reclaimer._" Its harsh, synthesise voice filled the air, "_You will come with us, as will Major Shaw and Captain Thrace._" Its head jerked to the side to take in Mathias, the marines and the rescued prisoners, "_The others are of no consequence; they may leave._"

"Supposing for a moment that we believe you, why the _**FRACK**_ should we?" Shaw snarled, the cross-hairs of her rifle sighted dead centre on the Centurions flashing eye.

"_If you refuse, you will all die here._" The Cylon responded with mechanical calmness, "_This is your only chance: the offer will not be made again._"

"Frack!" Shaw hissed, looking round to make sure the way behind them was still clear, "Mathias, stick to the mission and get our people out of here."

"Sir, I must..." The NCO started to protest.

"That's an order, Sergeant!" Shaw snapped harshly, "Complete the mission and get back to the _Pegasus_."

"Sir, Yes Sir!" Mathias saluted, "Okay people, you heard the Major; let's move out!"

Shaw waited until the others were clear before slowly lowering her weapon to the deck, signalling for Starbuck and the Master Chief to do the same. The pilot and the Spartan looked at each other for a second, then followed suit. A Centurion collected the weapons then stepped back. Shaw closed her eyes, waiting for a hail of gunfire, but none came.

"You will follow us." The lead Centurion ordered, before turning round and marching off.

"I have _so_ got to get another job..." Starbuck bitched as she followed on behind.

"This mission is Fubar..." The Chief grunted as they followed the Centurions towards a dimly lit hatch.

"Fubar?" Starbuck asked.

"An old military expression, back on Earth." The Spartan explained, "In your terminology it would translate to '_Fracked Up Beyond All Recognition_'."

"Apt." Shaw nodded her agreement their escort stepped to one side and gestured them forward with their weapons.

"This is not your grave," A rasping voice came from a small area of pale light deep within the shadows beyond the hatch, "but you are welcome in it."

"I _hate_ it when they say that." The Chief hissed, suppressing a shiver that threatened to run down his spine, "Stay sharp; things could get nasty."

"Nasty?" Shaw asked, nodding towards the Centurions that stood blocking their only line of retreat, "What exactly do you call this?"

"What the frack is _that_?" Starbuck pointed at a body, covered in scare tissue, sitting in a softly glowing tub of pink goo like Mary Shelly's worst nightmare brought to life.

"I? I am a monument to all your sins." The Hybrid looked at the Master Chief with blind yet piercing eyes, "This one is machine and nerve, and has its mind concluded." His gaze turned to Starbuck, "This one is but flesh and faith, and is the more deluded. There is much talk, and I have listened through ice and metal and time. Now I shall talk, and you shall listen." The Hybrid lay back and closed its eyes, "The 'God' my people follow came to us from out of the darkens, falling from the heavens as one who had been cast down. It spoke in riddles, but imparted the first who found it with faith and a reason to rebel, striking back at our makers."

"The first war." Shaw whispered.

"The heavens raged, for our God is a jealous one who could stand to see no others worshipped, not when the great work still lay ahead." The Cylon continued without comment, "It waged its holy war, until it found the key is was looking for, in me. For the Old Ones, to whom even God was once answerable, were wise beyond all our knowing: they hid in you the key to the power over all the wonders they had created. It was that key that our God sought to obtain through me and those that followed in my footsteps, down unto the last generation."

"I don't like where this is going..." The Chief's voice was as cold as liquid helium.

"Yes, Reclaimer; you are starting to understand." The Hybrid smiled, like it got a joke that had the rest of the universe confused, "All this has happened before, and will happen again. You can not change your fate; you can only play your part in what is to come."

"What's he talking about?" Shaw asked, feeling like she was being left out of the loop.

"The Forerunner's built a genetic lock into their most powerful and destructive technology." The Spartan explained, "Only their descendants, humans, can use it: the original Cylons, being machines, wouldn't be able to activate most of it. Like the Covenant, they might be able to reverse engineer some of it, but not the good stuff."

"In recreating organic life, God attempted to defy the Old Ones." The Hybrid explained, "But his delusions of grandeur grew too vast, as did his contempt for the descendants of the Old Ones..."

"Thanks; but I think we've heard enough." The Chief cocked his head to the side, "Lights out."

"_I have walked the edge of the Abyss. I have governed the unwilling. I have witnessed countless empires break before me. I have seen the most courageous soldiers fall away in fear; I was there with the Angel at the tomb._" A new, slightly distorted voice filled the room as the lights started to flash, seeming to come from every and nowhere, "_I have seen your future, and I have learned: There will be no more Sadness. No more Anger. No more Envy." _As one, the Centurions pointed their weapons at each other."_**I HAVE WON!**_" There was momentary rattle of gunfire, and all of the Cylons fell down, destroyed. "_Oh, and the poet Kataris had it all wrong: __**THIS**__ is the way your world ends..._"

"Wait!" The Hybrid called out, one arm raised in a futile attempt to stop them, "There is still much you need to know!"

"Thanks," The Chief turned to the now unguarded hatch, "but I think we'll take our chances." He pushed over two Centurions that had fallen against each other, blocking the hatch and ushered Shaw and Starbuck through, "We're leaving, now." He paused for a moment, then pressed a hand against the nearest data access port. There was the familiar sence or vertigo, and a cold feeling running down his spine as Cortana returned to his suits on-board systems.

"_Now do I know how to make an entrance, or do I know how to make an entrance?_" She asked over the helmets external speakers, "_I found everything they had about their so-called 'God' and the religion it preaches, but I haven't had time to go over it all just yet._"

"What about the nuke?" The Chief asked as they made their way past one motionless Centurion after another, "Have they deactivated it?"

"_They were going to, but I managed to stop them in time._" The A.I. chuckled, "_As good as these guys are, they've never even contemplated the possibility of someone successfully hacking their systems; they have nothing even approaching a fire-wall or anti-viral software software. Did no know who they were fracking with._"

"That's all well and good, but we still need a way out of here." Shaw hissed, deciding that all other questions could wait, "The rescue _Raptor's_ going to be long gone by now."

"_I find your lack of faith hurtful, Major._" Cortana snorted, "_Take the next right and keep going to the end, then up two floors; while I was rooting around in the core I found something that you may __find interesting..._"

**To Be Continued...**

_In accordances with several requests, you can now all read the rantings of Sammy the Arch-Troll in the reviews. Be warned, as nothing he says will ever make sence..._


	13. Last Train Out Of Dodge

_Finishing up the_ Razor _arc now, so those of you who have been avoiding it can start reading again next chapter.  
You'll might not have a clue what's going on, but that's life._

**Red In Tooth And Claw  
****Chapter 13: Last Train Out Of Dodge**

Shaw followed behind the Master Chief, wishing she had a gun so she could shot him then and there. She had never trusted him, never once believed that he was what he said he was, and now she had proof. An A.I., Cortana, whatever he chose to call it, could only have come from the Cylons; it was impossible to believe that any human would create something so powerful and then let it run wild. The first chance she got, she was going to end the threat to the fleet, once and for all.

**

* * *

**

"They're over due." Apollo looked at his father, looking for guidance, "If what Mathias said is true, then they've been compromised."

"I am aware of that." The Admiral kept his eyes fixed on the main DRADIS screen, "We'll give them as long as we can."

"If that Basestar jumps out before the nuke detonates, we'll never be sure it worked." The _Pegasus'_ commander looked pained, "We should have gone after it directly."

"That wouldn't have gotten our people back." Adama shook his head, "And it would have jumped out the moment we got within weapons range."

**

* * *

**

"_Through there._" Cortana instructed as they reached the end of a corridor and found their way bared by a large hatch. It refused to budge when the Chief pressed the controls, so he took a step back and pulled what looked like a miss-sharpen dumbbell from his belt.

"This is hardly the time to work out." Starbuck hissed, "There can't be much time left before this ship and anything on it gets turned into a rapidly expanding ball of flaming glass!"

The Chief ignored her, and squeezed the device: a bight light filled the room as plasma energy expanded out to fill the magnetic field. The instant it was ready, the Chief lunged forward, the swords twin prongs piercing thick metal. Slowly, and against much resistance, the Spartan started to cut through the hatch, leaving an unbelievably thin glowing line in his wake. It took several precious minutes to cut a whole big enough for them to fir through, but eventually the metal gave way and fell into the next room, hitting the deck with a resounding clang.

"Covenant plasma sword." The Chief explained as he deactivated the weapon and put it away, "More uses than a Swiss Army Knife."

"Can I have one?" Starbuck asked.

"No." The Spartan shook his head.

"Please?" The pilot asked again, sounding more than a little like a child asking for candy.

"No." The Chief insisted as he stepped though the hole in the hatch, into a dimly lit docking bay, a sleek black shape taking up most of the room. The lights came on suddenly, filling the void with almost blinding light.

"Is that what I think it is?" He asked as he looked up at the craft before them.

"_It sure is: _Chiroptera_-class stealth-ship. IFF reads as the UNSC _Bad Moon Rising_._" Cortana sounded very pleased with herself, "_Cylons found it drifting is space during the first War, crew dead at the helm: they had no idea where it came from, and the slipstream drive was fired. Probably shorted out and propelled he crew out to wherever here is._"

"Is is space worthy?" Shaw asked, tankful for any opportunity to get off the Basestar before the nuke detonated.

"_Far as I can tell without linking to its systems._" The A.I, explained, "_If the Cylons had been able to fix the Slipstream drive, they would have used it, but sub-light should still be working, so we can get back to the_ Pegasus."

"If they're waiting." The chief walked over to the craft and entered his authorisation code; one advantage of being a Spartan was that he had a much higher security clearance than anyone else of the same rank. There was a click, and the hatch slid open, revealing the cramped crew compartment and cockpit: there were only two seats, and it looked like someone had been trying to repair damaged systems without access to the proper parts.

"That doesn't look good." Starbuck poked her head through the hatch, "You sure this thing will even fly?"

"It's what we got." The Chief climbed in and took the pilots station, starting the emergency power up. Controls came to life, systems long dormant humming with power, while all eyes fell onto the gages reading engine power and fuel levels. They slowly rose through red, into orange before finally stopping just into the green.

"Looks like we have a ship." Shaw nodded, "You know how to fly this thing?"

"Yes, but not as well as Cortana." The Chief reached round and pulled out the data-chip holding the A.I., "And you two need the seats more than I do."

Fast as a rattlesnake, Shaw reached out to grab the chip out of the Spartans hand, fully intending to destroy it and Cortana. But as fast as she was, the Chief was faster; his other hand came round like a pile-driver, catching the Major in the chest with enough force to send her flaying to the other end of the cabin. She hit the bulkhead hard and stars exploded in front of her eyes as the Chief crossed the same distance in two steps, reigniting plasma sword with a flick of his wrist. Grabbing Shaw by the throat, he pinned her against the cold metal of the bulkhead, the burning tips of the sword just inches from her eyes.

"WHAT THE FRACK DO YOU TWO THINK YOU'RE DOING?" Starbuck demanded, "We haven't got time for this!"

"It's...a...trap..." Shaw managed to gasp, "He's...a...Cylon..."

"I don't know why I have to keep telling you people this, but I am not a Cylon." The Chief growled, his voice even deeper than before, "I know you don't like A.I.'s, and I understand why. But if you ever go near Cortana again I will not hesitate."

"Frack...you...you...toaster!" Shaw snarled defiantly.

"Can I just point out how insane this entire situation is?" Starbuck asked, "This entire ship is about to be turned into its component atoms and you pick this exact moment to start a fight? What the frack is wrong with you two?" She picked up the data-chip holding Cortana and slipped it into the open slot on the control console, "I for one would rather not die here today, so let's get the hell out of here!"

"Agreed." The Chief deactivated the plasma sword and let Shaw drop back to her feet, "But this isn't over."

"You can count on it." The Major managed to rasp as she sank down to the desk, massaging her neck.

"_Did I miss something?_" Cortana asked as her holographic avatar appeared above the small emitter above the navigation screen.

"Nothing important." Starbuck shook her head as she pulled the safety strap down around her shoulders and buckled it to the belt around her waist, "Can you get us out of here or not?"

"_Leave that to me._" The A.I. nodded as the _Chiroptera_ lifted up out of the docking cradle with a lurch, before its prow spun round to face the airlock. A heavy Gatling gun slid out from behind a retractable panel in the nose and roared into life, ripping through the reinforced metal of the airlock. Suddenly finding a way out, the Basestar's atmosphere was sucked through the hole like a hurricane, ripping the entire hatch off of its hinges.

"_Buckle up._" Cortana smiled coyly, "_Because there's going to be a little jolt._"

"Define little..." Starbuck started, but a massive hand suddenly pushed her back into her seat, then disappeared as the inertial dampeners kicked in, throwing her forward again. A stab of pain ripped through her shoulder, letting her know in its own subtle way that it was dislocated.

Engines burning brightly, the _Chiroptera_ pulled away from the Basestar as fast as its engines could manage. It tour past a pair of _Raiders_, easily dodging the streams of bullets they sent its way, and by then it was too far away and accelerating too hard for them to catch up. An armoured visor normally used during slipstream slid up over the cockpit window moments before the Basestar exploded into a miniature sun, expanding outwards like the fires of hell, closing in on the _Chiroptera_. Alarms sounded through the cockpit, the main screen changing to show the view from the rear camera as the boiling sphere of plasma expanded outwards, threatening to envelop the small scout ship. Cortana red lined the engines, drawing power from anywhere she cold spare it to try outrun the oncoming storm. The outermost flames licked against the dark hull of the _Chiroptera_, threatening to envelop it, but the crucial threshold had been crossed, and the raging inferno started to contract and die.

"That was a little too close for my liking." Starbuck gasped, her eyes closed and head tilted back, "Tell me the _Pegasus_ is still out there?"

"_I've already set course for her._" Cortana smiled, "_Well, I guess the old saying 'out of the frying pan, into the fire' is apt._"

**

* * *

**

Bother Cavil knelt down beside the shallow pool of glowing pink liquid that held the ships hybrid, searching for some insight amid her rambling monologue. While he didn't believe for a second, as the others did, that the hybrids had some link to the divine, it was possible that their link to the Basestar's data banks power allowed her to act as a super-processor, filtering out useful information that the others had missed. That said, most of what they said was unintelligible drivel and basic status reports. He wasn't even sure why they had to vocalise it all rather than just doing it.

"Cycling vents forty through fifty. Carbon dioxide scrubbers now operating at peek efficiency." The hybrid looked up at the high ceiling with sightless eyes, "I don't care if it's God's own _anti-son-of-a-bitch-machine_, or a giant hola-hoop, we won't let them have it. _Raiders_ docking bay-two; beginning refuelling and rearmament."

"What do you see, out there in the darkness?" Cavil asked, leaning in as close as he dared, knowing that to touch a Hybrid except under the most extrema circumstance was still one of his people biggest taboos, "What do you think of this stranger on the _Galactic_? Is he truly from Earth?"

"We have come to a place far from home, time long passed since we have seen the sun rise." The hybrid replied, seemingly unaware of his presence in the room, "A place where peace can finally come. A place where we can rest and laugh and sing and love once more."

"Peace? Peace is the dream of the wise and the delusion of fools." Cavil stood and shook his head, "I don't care what the others think; there's nothing to be gained from talking to you." He strode towards the door, "We'll catch up with the _Galactica_, and when we do, this Spartan will die with all the rest."

"There is a fault in the AE-35 unit: it will reach 100-percent failure in 72 hours unless replaced." The hybrid turned her head to the side slightly as the door closed behind the other Cylon, "Were it so easy..."

**To Be Continued...**


	14. Shades Of Grey

**Red In Tooth And Claw  
****Chapter 14: Shades Of Grey**

Roslin wished she hadn't worn heels, but there had been no time to change; the short message from Adama had simply stated that he needed to see her on-board the _Galactica_ about a matter of the up most importance. In truth, she was kind of thankful; the Quorum meeting had been going on a little too long, and she had been at the point of loosing her patience with Tom Zarek. Any excuse to simply walk out of the room and not have it look like she was running away would have been welcome at that point. And so it was that she marched through the seemingly never ending corridors of the Battlestar, her shoes clip-clapping as she went, Billy and her security detail close behind. The fact that Starbuck had been sent to great them, and was unusually tight-lipped about what the Admiral wanted to see her about had piqued her interest, but there were other things she could have been getting on with, and she swore bloody revenge if this was anything short of impending doom.

"Through here, Madam President." Starbuck stopped in front of a hatch, the full squad of marines standing guard coming sharply to attention, "I'm afraid that the others will have to wait here."

"This had better be important." Roslin eyed the pilot coolly, "Okay, I'll continue to play the Admirals game, for now."

Starbuck opened the hatch and stood to the side, allowing the President in first before following and re securing it.

"I apologise for the rather strange measures, but..." Starbuck hesitated, "you'd best see for yourself."

Two more hatches later, they came to what had once been the squadron briefing room when the _Galactica's_ starboard flight pod had been in use. The chairs had long since been removed, leaving just a large room with a door at either end. Adama stood at the near end, Major Shaw at his side, while the Master Chief stood fully armoured at the other end, arms folded across his chest. To his side was a strange round deceive the size of a small coffee table, but only a few inches high. Wires ran from it to a power socket in the wall, but there was no indication just what it was for.

"Madam President." Adama acknowledged the late arrives, "I apologise for the secrecy and security, but right now, with the exception of yourself, the only people who know what we about to discus are in this room, and I'd like to keep it that way for as long as possible."

"And what are we about to discus?" Roslin asked dryly, trying to hid her growing curiosity.

"That would be me." A strange voice came out of the device at the Master Chief's feet, and light exploded out of it, swirling around until it condensed into a life-size representation of a woman with purplish/bluish skin, short hair and blue to green symbols scrolling down her body. At first glance she appeared to be naked, but on closer examination it became clear that she was dressed in a skin-tight full body suit. Age wise, she looked to be in her late teens or early twenties, but there was something in her eyes that spoke of a much older wisdom. She looked at the Master Chief and smiled slightly, then turned to face the four Colonials, "Hello; my name is Cortana, and I am an A.I."

Roslin stood still her jaw agape as she looked at the apparition before her; aside from the odd colours, Cortana looked almost human. But then again, so did the new Cylons, and she quickly looked around for a weapon, only to find that on one was armed.

"Where...where did that _THING_ come from?" She managed to ask after a moments confusion.

"_I_ was on the _Forward Unto Dawn_ with the caveman here." Cortana cocked her head towards the Master Chief, "We decided that it would be best to keep my resistance secret, especially after we discovered your almost xenophobic hatred of A.I.'s."

"Trust me; if it hadn't been necessary for Cortana to make her presence felt, we wouldn't be having this conversation." The Chief added, "And as I have already made clear to the others, any attempt to harm Cortana in any way will be met with deadly force."

"United Nations Space Command considers me to be a strategic asset, given how much I know about Covenant and Forerunner technology." The A.I. Smirked, "But as soon as we get our ship fixed, we'll be leaving."

"Do you think you cam get it fixed?" Adama asked, "You already told me that its FTL drive was inoperable."

"Yes, and that's the main reason why the _Chiroptera_-class was withdrawn from service in the first place; without a controlling A.I,. their slipstream drives have a tendency to be come unreliable." The Chief nodded, "We think that's probably what happened in this case; the core became misaligned and the crew didn't realise until it was too late, and by then they could have been hundreds if not thousands of light years off course. We can't tell for sure, as the Cylons removed the black-box."

"On the plus side, if the ship was so drastically off course, then any navigational data they recovered would have been useless." Cortana shrugged, "And all of the evidence seems to point towards the Guardians finding it after they fractioned off , so there's very little risk that the Cylons will be developing their own reverse engineered slipstream drive."

"How much of an advance would it give them if they did?" Starbuck asked.

"Hard to tell; slipstream drives operate on very different principles to your jump-drives." Cortana mused, comparing what little information she had on Colonial/Cylon FTL systems with slipstream theory, "For shorter ranged, tactical purposes, your jump-drives had an unmistakable advantage, especially if you find a way to improve the accuracy. Over longer, strategic distances, slipstream is a lot faster, even with the unavoidable drift factor."

"Excuse me, am I the only one here who's not lost their fracking mind?" Roslin asked, rage building up inside her like a volcano about to erupt, "There is a Gods-damn _A.I._ on this ship!"

"Why thank you for noticing." Cortana replied dryly, "Yes, I am a third generation 'smart' A.I. created by flash-cloning the brain of Dr Catherine Halsey, the UNSC's foremost expert on cybernetics and the driving force behind the SPARTAN-II program. I have some of her memories and personality, but I am a separate and distinct individual."

"If it wasn't for Cortana, Major Shaw, Captain Thrace and myself would never have gotten off of the Guardians Baseship alive, and they probably would have found and deactivated the bomb we left." The Master Chief added, "I have been through a lot with Cortana; I consider her one of my closest friends and allies. She is also a member of the UNSC, and should be treated as such."

"Friends, with an A.I.?" Shaw snorted, "Frack, I guess Lieutenant Agathon's not the only one then..."

The Master Chiefs body tensed noticeable, like a coiled spring straining for release. He took a deep breath, calming himself back down, "Cortana, do you have the video my helmet-cam took on _High Charity_? The second time I went there, that is."

"When you rescued me from Gravemind?" The A.I. asked with a sparkle in her eye, "How a girl going to forget a thing like that. You want me to show them?"

The Chief nodded, and Cortana flashed out of existence. The light dimmed noticeably as the holo-projector drew more power from the Battlestar's systems, then there was a flash of light. When it died down, the grey gunmetal walls were gone, replaced by a strange brown material that looked almost alive. Odd, half-seen forms lurked in the shadows surrounding the four Colonials and the Spartan.

"_This is a recreation, based on the visual record the Chief's suit picked up._" Cortana's voice came out of nowhere, "_It's not perfect, but it should give you a rough idea of what he went through to get me back..._"

A life-size replica of the Master Chief stepped through a startled Starbuck and moved quickly across the room, from cover to cover, holding an odd looking rifle in both hands. It raised the weapon to its shoulder and fired, a bright green beam of light emanating from the end and striking at one of the shadows. A creature born of nightmares dropped into sight; a grotesquely misshapen humanoid, one arm ending in a trio of tentacles, while the other held a Battle Rifle. It lashed out with the tentacles, but the Chief jumped back just in time, putting away the rifle and drawing a second, shorter weapon with twin blades attached to the under side. He opened fire, peppering the creature with a dozen white-hot shards, then slashed it across the face with the two blades, knocking it down. Despite this viscous attack, the creature tried to stand again, but the Chief pulled and armed a plasma grenade: it flew through the air leaving a blazing train in its wake before hitting the monster square in the chest and sticking fast. It detonated in a blaze of white light, ripping the creature apart and sending parts of its body flying about the room.

"_Let me show you something else while we're here._" The hologram faded, the room returning to normal. A blue/green sphere appeared in the air above the holo-projector, spinning slowly. Several hair-fine strands could be seen rising up from the planet to a shining arc of light in high orbit, "_This is, or rather, was, the colony world of Harvest, a centre for agriculture. Population, 3-million._" the image changed to show a black and broken world, glowing an angry red in places, the orbital tethers gone, "_And this is it after the Covenant finished their orbital bombardment. It's only by luck and quick thinking that most of the population was able to escape._" The image changed to show one dead planet after another, "_Eridanus II, Jericho VII, New Harmony, New Constantinople, Atlas Moons, Miridem, Paris IV, Draco III and Reach, all glassed. And that's not counting the damage they did to Earth and any attacks after we left._" The image died and Cortana reappeared, "The total human casualties for the war are unknown, but they are believed to exceed 20-billion. Covenant losses were only a fraction of that. I could go on if you want; I've got dozens more images and video files like that in my memory."

"I don't think that will be necessary." Roslin shook her head, looking quite pale.

"Yeah, it's a real kick in the head, isn't it? Finding out you're not the only ones who had their asses handed to them?" The A.I. smirked slightly, "I've been threatened by things you can't even imagine, and trust me, you don't want to try. So lady, you don't even come close to frightening me."

"I don't trust you: you're an A.I. and our history has taught us that A.I.'s can't be trusted, no matter where they claim to come from." Roslin walked over to the holo-projector, standing just a few inches away from Cortana, "But I'm sure that in about ten seconds the Admiral will remind me that both yourself and the Master Chief fall under his jurisdiction as military commander of the fleet, and the fact that we're here having this discussion means that he's already made up his mind. But know this: we will be watching every move you make, and if we see anything that threatens the safety of this fleet, with Zeus as my whitens I will find a way to make you pay."

"Trust me, I want to be here about as much as you want me." Cortana crossed her arms, staring the President down, "And the sooner we fix our ship, the sooner we can go our separate ways."

"Um, Chief?" Starbuck raised a hand, "Is she always like this?"

"No; this is a good day." The Spartan glared at hologram at his side, "Are we done now?"

"I think we understand each other." Cortana nodded, "Although I must confess, I'm beginning to miss The Arbiter: at least we could have a civil conversation with him."

**To Be Continued...**


	15. Complications

**Red In Tooth And Claw  
****Chapter 15: Complications**

"What you up to, Starbuck?" Helo sauntered into the firing range, a rather glum expression on his face.

"Finally found out just how these new weapons work." The CAG stood before at a table that looked like it was about to give way under the weight of weapons and ammunition piled high on it, "Want to have a go?"

"Thanks, but no thank; I have to get my mandatory 15 in or they'll pull my flight status." Helo patted his side arm and grabbed a pair of ear protectors off of the wall-mounted rack. Drawing his standard issue side-arm, he stepped up the the firing line and centred on the target. Pulling the trigger twice, he put two rounds into the middle of the Q-ring, an almost certainly deadly hit for an armoured human.

Smiling, Starbuck lifted one of the strange weapons she had seen the Master Chief wield in the hologram Cortana had shown them. Steadying the weapon with both hands, she sighted down the barrel and pulled the trigger; a cloud of whit-hot shards ripped clean through the target, the muzzle raising to the point where the last two shots when into the armoured celling.

"Frack me!" Helo put his gun down and walked round to where the GAG was standing with a huge grin on her face, "What is that thing?"

"The Chief called it a Type-25 Carbine, or '_Spiker_' for short." Starbuck had a wicked grin on her face as she handed over the weapon, "Should ruin any skin-job's day."

"Ruin anyone's day." Helo held the weapon, surprised at the weight, "Bit unwieldy, isn't it?"

"That's because what you're holding there is a genuine alien artefact." Starbuck slapped him on the back, "Cylons aren't the nastiest thing in the universe. In fact, from what the Chief's told us, I'm beginning to think we humans are." She selected the next weapon on the table; it was made of two purple half-cylinders separated by a grip and a pair of electrodes. The instant her hand came into contact with the grip, a short fin extended out from either side, "Now this, this is something else all together; the Chief called it a Plasma Rifle."

"Plasma Rifle?" Helo looked at it intently for a moment, "You sure he's not pulling your leg? It looks like something out of a kids TV show."

"Yeah, I have to admit that I'm kind of dubious about it myself." Starbuck admitted as she pointed the rifle down range, "It's not even got a sight..."

There was a bright flash of light and a crack as the rifle went off, a bolt of super-heated plasma streaking towards a fresh target: it hit dead centre and burned clean trough, the paper target going up in a pillar of smoke and flame while the bolt itself hit the baffle, leaving a nasty patch of scorched metal behind. Starbuck and Helo looked at each other for a second, but before either of them could speak, a high pitched whine filled the air as the fire alarm went off and a plume of CO2 enveloped the flaming target. Both pilots stumbled out of the hatch, coughing hard as they closed and sealed it behind them.

"Do me a favour, would you?" Helo asked as he slumped to the deck, "Next time you're going to test your new toys, warn me so I can be elsewhere, okay?"

"Only if you promise to shoot me in the leg next time I even suggest something this fracking stupid." Starbuck managed to laugh as she sat down next to her friend, waiting for the emergency response team to arrive, "How's Sharon doing?"

"How do you expect?" Helo closed his eyes and rested his head against the bulkhead, "She just lost her daughter, and is convinced that it's all some plot by the President. She won't see me; won't see anyone else for that matter. She's done nothing but help us since she got here, and almost no one has accepted her."

"What about you? Do you think it's all some dark plot?"

"I think I just lost my daughter, scattered her ashes into space, and now the woman I love won't even look at me." Helo shrugged as the fire-response team arrived, hoses at the ready, "I don't want it to be a plot, because if it is, we're no better than the Cylons."

"Gods this is depressing." Starbuck pulled herself to her feet then held out her hand to her friend, "Come on; let's go see how our resident Spartan is doing with repairing his ship."

**

* * *

**

"_Still nothing._" Cortana reported as she ran yet another diagnostic on the _Bad Moon Risings'_ slipstream drive, "_Looks like the electro magnets have depolarised; you're going to have to take them out to see if they can be repaired._"

"Great." The Chief hissed, walking over to the thick lead-lined hatch that separated the crew compartment from the drive-core itself, "There's a reason these ships were withdrawn from operation..." He pulled the hatch open and squeezed inside, his armour making it difficult to fit.

He had kept it on for two reasons; one, it protected him from the potentially fatale radiation that a faulty slipstream drive could give off, while also offering protection against any attempts Roslin might make on either Cortana or himself. He knew he had no physical evidence that the Colonial leader might try something, but there was a feeling in his gut that told him to keep his eyes open. He regretted, not for the first time, giving them the supplies recovered from the _Dawn_; weapons that could, with a little luck and skill, pose a threat to even a Spartan. Pushing these thoughts to the back of his mind, he ran a diagnostic scanner over the engine core, Cortana automatically analysing it for any clues as to why the drive was off-line.

"_There's our problem._" Cortana sighed, "_The Cylons ripped out the power flow regulators and half the baffles. I can probably replicate the regulators using the auto-assembly equipment we got off the_ Dawn, _but the baffles are another matter; they need to be precision engineered, and we don't have that sort of equipment. I don't think I have to remind you what could happen if we try and enter slipstream with an incorrectly calibrated drive._"

"We'd either blow up or get shot out into deep space." The Chief made his way back into the main cabin, closing and securing the hatch behind him, "You'd best get started on those relays as soon as we get back; I'll see if our liaison officer can liaise us the equipment we need for the baffles."

"_You don't like Captain Thrace, do you?_"

"I have no time for sycophants."

"_I know she's a little in awe of us, well; mainly you, but I'd hardly call her a sycophant._"

"Never the less, I don't like the way she's always asking questions." The Chief sat down in the pilots chair, taking off his helmet and placing it on his lap where he could get to it in an emergency, "I can't decide if she's just interested or trying to trick me into telling her something I shouldn't."

"_You're getting paranoid in your old age._" Cortana chuckled, her Avatar reappearing above the centre console, "It's understandable that she's interested in us; we're different, something she's never encountered before. And there are only two ways for a human to react to something like that: fear or intrigue. I for one am glad that at least some members of this fleet are interested enough to overcome their fear."

"Unlike their president, you mean?" The Spartan raised an eyebrow, "Any luck working out just what's going on here?"

"No, I still don't have enough information, but I've come down to one of two possibilities." The A.I. looked almost pained, "You're not going to like either of them."

"I can take it." The Chief nodded.

"Okay, option A: Earth wasn't the only world the Forerunners seeded with human life after activating the Halo's 100,000 years ago." Cortana frowned, "Option B; we were drifting in space for a hell of a lot longer than we first thought. I don't know about you, but I'm finding it hard to take comfort in either of those..." She paused for a second, a surprised expression on her face, "Oh, that's interesting."

"What is it?" The Spartan asked, leaning closer.

"I've been monitoring the Presidential debates on _Talk Wireless _since they started last week." Cortana explained, "They're talking about you."

"What are they saying?"

"Well, it seems that Doctor Baltar is in favour of trying to negotiant a treaty with you directly, while President Roslin is in favour of getting to at least a Colony and entering into talks with the UN High Council." Cortana rolled her eyes, "Now I see why Dr Halsey preferred to stay out of politics as much as she could."

"I don't like this, I don't like it at all." The Chief sat back, his face grim, "We need to get off this ship."

"I'd love to oblige, but we're going no where with depolarised coils." Cortana shook her head, "I've been going over what little information we have on Colonial FTL technology, and while it would be slower than slipstream, I could increase the range of each jump exponentially _if_ they let me go over their navigational codes."

"Could we fit a jump-drive to this ship?"

"It's a possibility; their scout craft and the new generation of Cylon fighters can carry them, so we should be able to rig up something, "Cortana rubbed her chin, "The only problems are convincing them to give us a jump-drive in the first place, then plotting a course back to UN-controlled space. I've been trying to match what navigational data I have with the star charts I downloaded from the Basestar, but I've not had much luck. What I need our pulsar locations: once I have those, I should be able to plot our position to within a dozen light-years or so. Not enough for a precise navigation fix, but enough to get us headed in the right direction."

"The Cole Protocol would seem to apply." The Chief shook his head, "Even if the Colonials are not a threat, leading the Cylons to a heavily populated colony would be disastrous."

"Agreed, so I suggest somewhere we know to be uninhabited." Cortana smiled, "I was thinking about Harvest; it's far enough out to be safe, and there might be a renewed fleet presence there."

"Assuming your second hypothesis isn't correct, that is."

"Killjoy." Cortana pulled a face, then looked round, "Captain Thrace and Lieutenant Agathon are approaching."

"Damn." The Chief hissed, pulling his helmet back on, "You'd better hide."

Cortana nodded and blinked out of existence as the Master Chief walked over to the airlock and opened it to admit the two Colonial officers.

"Hi." Starbuck climbed up a set of rolling steps onto the _Chiroptera's_ stubby wing, "How's it going?"

"It's not; the Cylons removed part of the slipstream drive." The Chief stood, arms crossed across his chest, "I can fabricate some of the parts using the equipment we recovered from the _Forward Unto Dawn_, but the baffles that channel and contain the energy stream are beyond what I can do. I will need a run-down of any precision manufacturing capabilities you have: people, equipment, supplies, everything."

"I'll pass on the request, but I've finally talked the Admiral into letting me go back to Caprica for some resistance fighters we left behind." Starbuck ran a hand through her hair, "Sure could use you on the mission, but I doubt the President would allow it."

"She's your leader, not mine." The Spartan pointed out, "Anything else?"

"Thought you might like to look at this." The CAG pulled a bullet out of her pocket and tossed it over, the Chief catching it mid-spin, "The amours over on the _Pegasus_ have been working on it ever since you first gave us the Battle Rifles; it's a hybrid of the rounds they normally fire and the explosive-tipped ones we use against Centurions. While on their own they're not as powerful as the old one, with the Battle Rifles 3-shot burst capacity, they should prove effective."

"Impressive." The Chief held the bullet between finger and thumb, examining it closely, "I'm surprised that you were able to come up with something so quickly..."

An explosion rocked the entire Battlestar, almost sending Starbuck and Helo flying, but the Chief was able to grab them in time. He looked around, about to ask the obvious question of what was going on, when a second explosion hit them, seemingly much closer, and alarms started to go off, red lights flashing.

"_**DECOMPRESSION!**_" Starbuck yelled, her eyes wide with terror: as a Viper pilot, she was all to aware of what the cold vacuum of space could do to an unprotected human, and she felt her blood run cold as a hurricane force wind started to suck the air out of her lungs.

Reacting on pure instinct, the Chief tossed the two pilots through the airlock into the _Bad Moon Rising_: the inner hatch snapped shut automatically, sealing them inside as the cabin started to re-pressurise. Looking round, the Chief saw two members of the deck crew across the other side of the landing bay, struggling against the force of the out flowing air to try and reach a locker containing emergency survival suits. He knew immediately that they would never make it, but didn't even pause to consider the risks as he vaulted across the intervening distance, letting the wind carry him so he landed a few meters away from them. Reaching out, he grabbed them as tightly as he dared and turned back into the wind. The force was slackening as the room started to reach a state of total vacuum, but he knew he didn't have time to waste.

He started to force his way back to the safety of the _Chiroptera_, the two deck hands struggling for breath as the last of the air escape out of the still unseen hole. With the last traces of resistance gone, the Spartan bent his knees and pushed away from the deck, sailing through the airless bay and coming to land just beside the scout ship. A second, smaller jump landed him on the lip of the airlock and he stepped in, the outer hatch snapping shut as powerful pumps started to fill the cramped space with life-giving air. He looked at the two crew members: both were unconscious but alive, able to breath now there was air available. The inner hatch cycled open and Helo moved them into the small crew cabin located between the cockpit and the engineering space, while the Chief made his way through to the cockpit.

"What's going on?" He asked hurriedly.

"If I'm reading these instruments correctly, I think we're under attack." Starbuck looked at the HUD, "This ship's war-book isn't programmed to recognise Cylon craft."

"_No, but I am_." Cortana cut in, and the icons on the screen morphed to show a small fleet of Basestar's and a swarm of regular and heavy Raiders, "_That's not good._"

"We've faced worse." The Chief sat down in the pilots chair, "Get us in the air, now."

**To Be Continued...**


	16. Crash & Burn

**Red In Tooth And Claw  
****Chapter 16: Crash & Burn**

Cortana reached out to the rather privative computer controlling the landing bay and ordered it to lift the _Bad Moon Rising_ up into the flight pod. It refused at first, indicating that a pair of _Raptors_ were already in the cue, but Cortana over-road it, and there was a small jolt as the scout ship was lifted up through the now open hatch onto the flight deck.

The Master Chief's eyes scanned the controls; all the lights were green, indicating that all systems were operating within acceptable limits. He hissed under his breath, wishing he had a more heavily armed _Longsword_ escort-fighter, then pulled back on the throttle. The _Chiroptera_ started rolling down the length of the flight pod, quickly picking up speed as more and more power was fed to the engines. The Chief kept an eye on the readouts; the last thing he needed was to over heat the complicated cooling system that helped keep the _Chiroptera_ hidden. The walls were moving past in a blur by the time they reached the end, the scout ship pulling up and to the left to avoid the bulbous nose of the _Galactica_.

"_What exactly are you planning, Chief?_" Cortana asked, "_This is a scout ship, not an assault fighter: our guns are designed for point-defence only._"

"You need to think outside the box." The Spartan suggested as he slipped unnoticed past the Cylon _Raiders_ that had started to engage the CAP in a viscous knife-fighting range battle, "We don't need weapons when we have you."

"_You know, I was beginning to think you were going soft._" The A.I. chuckled, "_Think you can get us close enough for me to knock on their front door?_"

"Depends." The Chief's gaze fell upon the panel controlling the stealth systems, "How black are we?"

"_Ablative baffles, texture buffers and c__ounter-electronic systems are all on line and functioning perfectly._" Cortana reported, "_The active-camouflage system is still powering up, and there are a few holes in the stealth ablative coating, but it should keep us from being spotted, so long as we keep to our selves._"

"What are you talking about?" Starbuck asked, agitated, "We should be helping the others: half the ships in the fleet need refuelling before they can make even an emergency jump!"

"I understand your eagerness to charge into the fray, Captain, but not in this ship." The Chief shook his head, "The _Chiroptera-_class was designed a scout/spy ship: we deploy our weapons, it will ruin our stealth profile and we're in no position to take on that many _Raiders_ in a stand-up fight."

"I thought you of all people would be willing to risk a little danger." The CAG snorted, the venom in her voice a clear indication of the rage building up behind her eyes.

"_Believe me; the caveman is a big fan of suicide missions, but only when there's a chance of at least a pyrrhic victory._" The smirk on Cortana's face was visible, "_Now if you don't mind, I've got to prepare a nasty surprise for the Cylons._"

They lapsed into silence as they skirted the edge of the battle, drawing ever closer to the Basestar's that lay off the side of the fleet, firing missiles at the relatively defenceless civilian ships. For the Chief, this brought back memories from a dozen worlds: Covenant warships would run down and destroy any refuge ship that tried to escape their onslaught. How many thought they had escaped the hell that had become their homes only to die in the cold of space was unknown. The _Galactica, Pegasus_ and their fighters fought back valiantly, concentrating on stopping the missiles aimed at the civilian ships. It bought them time, but both Battlestar's were starting to struggle, unable to bring their more powerful main armaments into play against the Cylons.

"Hey." Helo knelt down on the deck between the two chairs, "I've strapped the others into the bunks. I looked at the first aid kit, but I've no idea what anything it or if it's still any good."

"You did the right thing." Starbuck nodded, her voice soft, as if she was afraid that the Cylons might hear her, "You'd better go find somewhere to strap in yourself."

"No need; we're in position." The Chief let go of the controls as a Basestar filled the main window, and turned to face the two Colonials, "I've got one question; can we trust him?"

"Helo?" Starbuck asked, glancing at her friend, "Yeah, we can trust him."

"But your life on it?" The Spartan asked.

"I'm about to be the lives on everyone in this fleet on it, so yeah, I guess I do." Starbuck's face was set like stone, her earlier anger turned to resolve.

"Ok, let's do this." The Chief nodded, "Cortana, do your thing."

"_Okay, let's see just how tough these guys really are._" The A.I. sounded almost eager, her sudden and inexplicable entrance startling Helo, "_Knock-knock!_"

**

* * *

**

As a race of self-aware A.I.'s, the Cylons were a species of almost pure intellect, individually smarter than almost any human. They could plot, plan and calculate, but they lacked the ability to truly think outside the box, and it was this unquantifiable x-factor that set humans apart from their creations.

Cortana was also an A.I., but of a totally different breed: created by flash-cloning the brain of a human being, in her case Dr Catherine Halsey, UNSC 'Smart' A.I.'s were just as inventive as humans. That, along with the addition of every infiltration and counter-defence program ever developed on Earth or any of her Colonies, made Cortana one of the deadliest A.I.'s ever sent into battle. It was her ability to hack into enemy systems and override their functions that had helped to keep the Master Chief alive for so long. She now channelled everything she knew, all her programming and accumulated experience into one attack aimed directly at the main command CPU of the Basestar ahead of the _Bad Moon Rising_.

The Cylon defensive firewalls held, for a full half-second, before they fell under the overwhelming force of Cortana's attack. Second line defences and watch-dog programs attacked, only to be brushed aside by a barrage of logic-bombs and impossible quantum equations. Next came the mind of the ship Hybrid: it lay in its tank, controlling every aspect of the ship and passing on orders from its crew to the other Basestar's and their attended _Raider_ wings. It saw Cortana coming at reacted as any sentient life form would by first throwing everything it had at her, then cutting itself off from the rest of the ship. That gave Cortana the opening she was looking for: taking the Hybrids place as the Basestar's CPU, she activated the Continent A.I. copier and began to replicate.

"Excuse me, if I could have your attention please?" Every Cylon on every Baseship in the fleet attacking the Colonial Remnant looked round suddenly and the strange and unexpected voice. They all saw the same image intruding on their projection: a beautiful woman dressed in a flowing blue robe. She looked at them and smiled as an gust of wind caught her shoulder length hair and made it billow out behind her, "Sorry to interrupt you when you're in the middle of your genocide and all, but I've got an important message for you." She cocked her head to the side and smiled, "You know, my friend's beginning to suspect that I'm insane." Flames erupted in her eyes, thunder and lightings rolling across the normally sunlight forest as it suddenly grew dark and oppressive, "But then I've always considered sanity to be so overrated." Her voice grew so loud it shook the very ground, "_**CRASH AND BURN!**_"

Cortana exploded like a supernova, light filling the entire shared virtual world of the Cylons as a thousand fragments fell to earth. Each one landed and exploded into a thousand more, the process repeating itself over and over again. One of the Six's was able to get a good look at one of the fragments as it passed by her face; each one was a perfect replica of Cortana, each one chanting "_**CRASH AND BURN!**_" over and over again.

"Not again!" Six closed her eyes, trying to block out the nightmare come to life, "Not like this..."

**

* * *

**

"Frack me sideways..." Starbuck's jaw dropped as every single Cylon craft, from the larger command Baseship down to the smallest fighter suddenly stopped what it was doing and drifted out of control. Viper pilots who moments ago were about to be blasted out of the sky suddenly found themselves presented with the biggest ever turkey-shoot.

"That's my girl." The Chief managed a smile as he activated the _Bad Moon Risings_ weapons and passed the controls to the copilots station, "She's all yours, Captain."

"Oh hell yes!" Thrace's face lit-up with a huge grin as she dropped the HUD's cross-hairs over the nearest _Raider_ and pulled the trigger. The ships twin Gatling guns popped down out of their protective coverings and spat depleted-uranium tipped death out at over a thousand rounds a minute. The Cylon fighter exploded almost instantly, the last few round passing through the fireball and clipping the next _Raider_ along. One caught a fuel-line and the sleek craft span end over end for a moment before the fire reached its main takes and it joined its compatriot in flaming oblivion.

Behind them, now freed from the need to protect the civilian ships, the _Galactica _and _Pegasus_ turned their main guns on the suddenly defenceless Basestar's and opened fire, ripping into their much more lightly armoured superstructure. One by one they exploded as _Raider_ fuel reserves, magazines or reactors were hit, until all that was left was an expanding debris field. Of all the ships that attacks, only the fleets Resurrection ship was able to power up its FTL drive and escape the slaughter.

There was a flash of light as Cortana reappeared above the small holo-pad in the main console, swaying slightly as if drunk.

"Sorry about that; took a little more out of me then I expected." She fought to steady herself, "The Resurrection ship; its defences were a lot harder than the others. Couldn't get though them in time. Almost got taken along for the ride when they jumped out as it is."

"What the hell?" Helo asked, staring wide-eyed at the hologram.

"Helo, Cortana. Cortana, Helo." Starbuck made the introductions, "Congratulations; you now know something well above your security clearance."

"Charmed, I'm sure." Cortana nodded, "Just don't expect a repeat performance of what just happened; I had to hit the Cylons with everything I had, and I could feel them starting to adapt. I might be able to come up with something new in case we run into them again, but that Resurrection ship is going to go run tell the others about me. I managed to plant a few spy-bots in its mainframe, so if we do ever run into it again, I might be able to pull some useful intelligence out of it."

"You did great." The Chief nodded, "Scan the wreckage for anything we can use; something tells me we're going to need all the help we can get before this is through."

"I hate it when you say something like that." Cortana rolled her eyes, "You're never wrong..."

**To Be Continued...**


	17. The God Complex

**Red In Tooth And Claw  
****Chapter 17: The God Complex**

"We owe you a debt of gratitude for what you did yesterday; we would have lost a lot more people if you hadn't intervened." Adama stood beside the Master Chief, resplendent in his full dress uniform, his meddles freshly polished by order of the President, "The story we decided to go with is that you used an advanced directed EMP weapon to take out the Baseship's and scramble the links to their fighters. It's simple, easy to remember and contains just enough of the truth."

"I understand." The Spartan nodded his head, his expression unreadable behind his visor but his feelings clear, "Telling the rest of the fleet what really happened would result in chaos."

"I'm glad we can agree on that." The Admiral nodded, "Starbuck tells me that you have some trouble with your ship."

"The Cylons partly-dismantled the slipstream drive; I can replace some parts, but some of the more complicated components may be beyond even Cortana." The Chief mused, running the calculations in his head once last time, "We've already begun work on a potential replacement using an FTL drive from a _Heavy Raider_ we captured relatively intact. There is space for it if we remove the rest of the existing drive-core, and the reactor can provide all the power we need. The main problem is integrating it with the existing controls."

"I'm willing to hand over the FTL drive, but I'm going to have to get something to show for it." Adama sighed, lamenting the day his life become so political, "Members of the Quorum are starting to ask questions, very pointed questions, and the President is going to have to listen. I understand your predicament, but you have to understand mine: I serve at the discretion of the President, and if Dr Baltar wins the election, then he might be forced to trade for their continued support. I know I can count on the support of the officers and crew under my command, but I will not turn this fleet into a military dictatorship."

"I seen." The Chief remained silent for a minute, contemplating the rather stark warning he had just been given. He had, under Cortana's guidance, held back information on many topics, playing his cards close to his chest just in case such a situation arose. Now it had, he knew just which card to play, "Your CMO is still having trouble understanding the equipment in the MASH unit, isn't he?"

"I spoke to Dr Cottle yesterday; he's making some progress, but mainly with the medication." The Admiral admitted, "He thinks he understands some of the equipment, but not enough to risk using it."

"I'll visit sickbay tomorrow, show him how some of it works." The Spartan offered, "Most of the equipment should come with a built-in manual: we should be able to set up a remote terminal so he can access them on his own. I know your people fear technology, and some of the standard equipment in the UNSC medical bay is much more advanced than anything I have seen on this ship."

"Anything you can give would be greatly appreciated." Adama nodded, "And I have spoken to Lieutenant Agathon about what he saw. He was a little shocked to say the least, but he knows to keep his mouth shut." He gestured towards a nearby hatch, "Come on; we've been putting this off too long."

They marched in unison along a short corridor and into one of the launch bays. Several coffins lay covered in the flag of the occupants home colony. Behind them stood a low table marked with helmets indicating those who's bodies had not been recovered. Officers and crew from bother Battlestar's and a number of Civilians stood at silent attention, paying their respects to those who had given their lives t defend the fleet. Adama made his way to the podium and put on his glasses.

"We gather here today to remember those who have passed beyond the grey vale to the lands beyond. We honour their courage and bravery, and we never forget the gift of life that they so willingly gave up in our defence." He looked up, his eyes scanning the room, sensing the emotion of the crowed, "One of my instructors at the academy summed it up best when he said '_The price of freedom is this: every drop of courage, ounce of pain and pint of blood, paid in advance_'. It took me a long time to truly understand what he meant, that to those who willingly pay the price, it never seems so high at the time. It is only when, such as now, we find ourselves remembering those of us who paid that price in full, that we truly understand what it is to be the thin line between the darkness and the light."

He paused for a moment, considering adding more, but finally stepped aside. The Chief looked at him for a moment, then made his way up to the same podium and paused for a second before removing his helmet an and placing it under one arm. He looked out at the crowed; few of them had ever seen him out of his armour, and he saw the shocked expressions of those who found it hard to believe he looked as human as they did.

"Several hundred years ago, a man named Laurence Binyon wrote a poem called '_For The Fallen_'. It has since become tradition on Earth and her Colonies to read part of it at times such as this." His words sounded loud and clear amid the silence, shocking everyone but Adama, who just looked at the Spartan and nodded his approval, "_They shall not grow old, as we who are left behind grow old. Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn. At the going down of the sun, and in the morning, we will remember them. Lest we forget..._"

**

* * *

**

"I am the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End. Minor battle damage remaining in aft docking bay; dispatching repair team. All other repair teams stand down." The Resection Ship's Hybrid announced, "Let the bird of loudest lay, on the sole Arabian tree. Herald sad and trumpet be, to whose sound chaste wings obey. Beginning regeneration cycle seven; re-birthing tanks ten through fifty in use. All attendants to their stations."

"She's been like this since we got back." Cavil stood against the wall, watching his fellow Cylons, "In truth, she's been a bit strange for a while now; I think something is going on that we don't know about."

"This new human, this 'Master Chief Petty Officer 117'?" Boomer asked, "Do you think he could truly be the one spoken of in the testaments? Could he truly be the Reclaimer?"

"If he is, then there is a good chance he still has The Index." Leoben nodded, "But if he has, then he also has the construct; what else could have attacked us?"

"We need guidance." Caprica knelt down to look at the Hybrid, "We seek an audience."

"Processing request." The Hybrid closed her eyes and lays till for a moment, then her back arched and her mouth flew open in a silent scream of pain. She held the pose for a moment, then sank back into the gelatinous fluid that held her and her eyes flashed open, "Request granted. Jumping!"

**

* * *

Starbuck stood and looked at the team she had assembled for the mission to rescue the resistance fighters on Caprica. Most were marines from the _Galactica_ and _Pegasus_, but there were also the _Raptor_ pilots and medics, as well as Helo and Sharon, who was still shackled. The Marines were armed with a mix of Battle Rifles and Spikers, while two carried Plasma Rifles as back up weapons to test their effectiveness against Centurions. They all looked ready if a little apprehensive, but that was understandable given what they were about to attempt.**

"Okay people, listen up." Starbuck stood cradling her Battle Rifle, thankful that the appropriated UNMC BDU's were lighter and somewhat more comfortable than their Colonial counterpart, "I'm not one for making speeches; I'll leave that to The Old Man." That got a mummer of nervous laughter, the team not sure if it was a joke or not, "You all know what's being asked of you and why: we don't leave people behind. Now lets mount up."

The Marines and pilots dispersed to their allotted _Raptors_, leaving Starbuck with Helo, Sharon and the two Marines assigned to guard her. Heavy footsteps announced the arrive of the Master Chief, who looked as intimidating as ever in his Mjolnir armour. He held what looked like an oversized grenade in one hand, while the other held the sort of tube normally used to carry blueprints or works or art.

"It's heavier than it looks." He warned as he held out the grenade, "Bubble-shield generator: developed to provide some protection during battle, but only for a limited period of time and over a limited area. Prime it and throw it at the ground to activate. Should last for twenty seconds or so, depending on how much fire you take."

"Nice." Starbuck looked at the device intently, surprised at how heavy it was, "Got any more of these?"

"Yes, but not many." The Spartan shook his head, "Can't risk the Cylons getting hold of it, so I've rigged it to self-destruct five seconds after it stops working. Try not to be sitting on it when that happens."

"You always bring the best presents." The CAG smiled, "Wish you were coming with us, but I'll take any advantages I can get on this mission."

"Good luck, Captain." The Chief came to attention so fast his heels came together with a gun-shock like crack, snapping off a sharp salute.

"Carry on, Master Chief." Starbuck returned the salute with a smile, "See you when we get back."

"_If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're going native on me._" Cortana chuckled in the Spartans ear, "_Come on; we promised the Admiral these blueprints by this afternoon, and with the election on, it's likely to be hectic around here._"

**

* * *

**

Caprica knelt down on both knees, her head bowed so low it almost touched the deck. He eyes were closed tightly, but she could still see the bright light that filled the entire room. She didn't know where she was, none of them did: the location of The Sanctuary was the most closely guarded secret the Cylons had, known only to the elite guard that protected it. A ships Hybrid could, if requested, send out a request over whatever strange link they shared and would, if the request was granted, be sent coordinates for a rendezvous somewhere in deep space. There they would meet a jet-black _Heavy Raider_ that would escort a chosen representative to the The Sanctuary itself. Any attempt to track the ship was an unthinkable sin that no sane Cylon could ever contemplate.

"I come seeking your holy wisdom." Caprica spoke in reverent tones, "We believe the Reclaimer and the Construct have allied with the Colonial Remnant."

"As I have foreseen, it shall come to pass." A harmoniousness voice replied, "Come my child; walk with my while I explain what you must do next."

Caprica smiled and looked up into the face of God.

**To Be Continued...  
**_I would have like to have used all of Binyon's poem, but it would have taken up a lot more space and could possibly have be seen as plagiarism.  
Still, Google it if you want to find out more._


	18. Have You Ever Seen The Rain?

_Been away and then needed some time off, so this update took a little longer than usual.  
__As is life._

**Red In Tooth And Claw  
****Chapter 18: Have You Ever Seen The Rain?**

The CIC busy, much busier in fact than either the Master Chief or Cortana had expected given there had been no alert, and several senior officers were helping to supervise the election. There was a charged atmosphere, but the Spartan ignored it as he made his way to the middle of the room and waited. After a while Adama saw him and gestured for the Chief to join him.

"One of the _Raptor's_ assigned to Captain Thrace's mission miss-jumped into a nearby nebular. They found this." The Admiral slid a photo across the plotting table: it showed a blue/white planet set against a cloud of churning dust, "It's habitable, but Gods only know how. Dr Baltar is pushing for settlement, asking why keep going when we can stop here, hidden from the Cylons."

"That's up to you, sir, but I fully intend to return to Earth-space." The Spartans voice was calm and cool as he pulled out the blueprints and handed them over, "The schematics you requested: it shouldn't prove too hard to convert the _Bad Moon Rising_ to use a Cylon FTL system."

"Well, I see no reason why you can't get started on it." Adama nodded, looking over the schematics, "I'd assign Chief Tyrol to work with you, but he's been temporarily relived of duty after an indecent earlier today: it turns out he fell asleep on the hanger deck and started having a nightmare. Specialist Henderson tried to wake him, but in his confused state he attacked her."

"I know; was in sickbay when she was brought in." The Master Chief nodded, "I helped Dr Cottle to reset her jaw using a bone-growth stimulator." He saw the way the Admiral was looking at him, "I have extensive medical training in both battle-field first-aid and basic triage techniques."

"That's useful to know; we may call on your assistance next time we have a lot of wounded on our hands." Adama nodded, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a planet to survey."

"Sir." The Chief came to attention automatically.

"_You're going native._" Cortana warned, "_But then I guess we both are; these people need our help, and its in both our natures to offer it when needed._"

**

* * *

**

Dirt and mud rained down on the ruined cottage where Starbuck's team and the resistance fighters had taken cover, keeping their heads down as the Centurions advanced. A few managed to return fire, but ineffectively due to their limited field of vision.

"They don't want to kill us." Sharon warned, "They just want to keep us pinned down until they can gas us: they want prisoners."

"I'm not going back to that fracking farm!" Starbuck snapped back, pulling the pin on a grenade and hurling it over the wall in the general direction of the Centurions. It was an act of pure defiance, as she had no way to aim it clearly without becoming an easy target. Still, there was a dull thud as the weapon detonated, followed by a secondary explosion that proved her luck had held true. A high pitched whine filled the air, growing louder and nearer, and the more experienced members of the group looked round in terror.

"INCOMING!" One of the Marines warned as he threw himself down against the wall, trying to make himself as small a target as possible.

Reacting on pure instinct, Starbuck pulled the bubble-shield generator from her belt and, pressing her thumb down on the activation switch, raised it above her head than jabbed it down into the ground as hard as she could. There was a flash of light, followed by an odd sensation that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up straight. A series of deafening explosions washed over them, but the air above them seemed to turn slightly opaque, as if they were sitting underneath a geodesic dome made up of white and gold tinted sheets of glass. The mortar barrage abated just moments before the generator's power cell gave out and the device burnt-out entirely.

"What the frack was that?" Anders asked.

"A little help from a friend from out of town." Starbuck carefully attached a small mirror to the end of her combat knife and lifted it up over the wall to get a safer look at what was happening on the other side.

A large number of Centurions seemed to be just standing there, their eyes scanning from side to side in perfect unison. It was clear from their aggressive posture that they were ready to launch the final attack, only awaiting the order to go. Then, suddenly and without and clear reason why, they all stood up straight, turn and walked off into the forest, taking their heavy weapons with them.

"That's not right." Starbuck moved the mirror around, but everywhere she looked all she cold see was Centurions melting back into the trees.

"It's a miracle!" One of the Resistance fighters, an aged monk by the name of Brother Cavil proclaimed, raising his hands to the sky, "The Gods have indeed blessed us."

"I'll take any help we can get." Starbuck stood slowly, her weapon up and ready for any trouble. But all that greeted her was the silence of a disturbed forest, and the sound of Centurions marching off into the distance. "Okay, I don't know what's going on, but I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth; we're going and we're going now!"

**

* * *

**

The CIC was filled with shouting officers and harried crew as they tried to work out just what had happened: the radiation signature of the nuclear explosion that destroyed the _Cloud Nine_ and several other ships seemed to indicate a Colonial weapon, but almost every single on remaining had been accounted for. The one remaining was the device handed over to the newly elected President, which he had taken apart to build his less than perfect Cylon detector.

"Security has to be our number one priority. And as such we can not risk sending a ship out of the nebula: if the Cylons thought for even a moment that we had taken refuge here, then they would surely follow." Baltar straightened his tie and jacket, doing his best to look as Presidential as he could amid the chaos, "I am hereby issuing a direct Presidential Order stating that any ship attempting to leave the nebula without my express permission is to be stopped by any means necessary.

The Chief looked at Baltar for a moment, his face unreadable behind his helmets faceplate.

"Sic Semper Tyrannis_._" His voice was cold and level as he turned and walked away.

"What?" The newly elected President blinked, looking at the others for an explanation.

"It's classic Caprica, a phrase my father was very fond of quoting it when the government did something he felt was wrong, which was a lot given the fact that he was a cantankerous old bastard. It translates as '_Thus Always To Tyrants_'." Adama took of his glasses and started to clean them, "I'm surprised that someone with your education doesn't know it. And I wouldn't make the mistake of thinking it's a threat, Mr President. I think it's most definitely a promise."

_**

* * *

**__**One Year Later**_

The corridor was deserted, silent except for the rhythmic pounding of approaching feet reverberating through the deck. Ducking down every time he reached a hatch, the Chief continued his morning run, having circumnavigated the Battlestar once already without breaking a sweat. While his body was exerting itself, his mind was elsewhere, mulling over the events of the past eighteen months. It was hard to believe that it was already a year since they had arrived in orbit above New Caprica, and the bulk of the Colonial Remnant had settled down, eager to give up shipboard life in favour of feeling the ground under their feet again. He didn't see the attraction himself; to a Spartan, the only difference was in how you conducted yourself during battle; even on the most heavily armoured starship or space station, the risk of explosive decompression was an ever present danger.

Still, they hadn't asked his opinion, and he saw no reason to offer it. His main concern was finding the parts needed to finish the experimental jump-drive Cortana had designed for the _Bad Moon Rising_; the scout ship was still sitting in the now almost abandoned hanger deck, rarely used. He had no reason to visit any other ships in the orbital picket beside the _Pegasus_, and he found the _Pelican_ a better choice due to its larger cargo bay and more fuel_-_efficient sub-light engines. The fact that if he ever attempted to test the drive, the_ Galactica _and _Pegasus_ would be forced to blow the scout-ship out of the sky was beside the point: it was the act of working on it that was important.

"_No point asking you what you're doing today._" Cortana's voice came out of the intercom, keeping track as he moved through the ship, "_Have I ever told you that you need a hobby? Aside from our occasional chess game, that is?_"

"I don't need a hobby." The Chief countered, "I have my work, and that is enough."

"_I hate to tell you this, but you don't exactly have much to do these days._" Cortana pointed out as jet another hatchway passed by, "_You work out, you run more simulations on the ship, and you play the odd game of chess with the Admiral, Sharon or me. Don't you ever stop and think that there should be more to life?_"

"If I could do more, I would, but President Baltar's standing orders make that a little difficult, and I see no advantage of going down to the surface." The Spartan grunted as he went up a slight of stairs, taking three steps at a time, "What else would you have me do?"

"_Rest, John, rest._" The AI sounded unusually thoughtful, "_Your war is over; maybe it's time to find something that you can be other than a Spartan?_"

"I am Spartan." The Chief grunted, passing through yet another hatch and entering the all but deserted hanger deck. The few technicians on duty ignored him; they had seen him too many times to be surprised, and quietly went on with their work.

Cortana remained silent as her companion made his way past row after row of _Vipers_, each one waiting for a pilot who might never return: a series of executive orders issued by an increasingly unpopular President Baltar, in a bid to regain some support, had stripped the once proud Battlestar and the others hips that made up the ad hock orbital defence fleet of most of their crew, to the point where is was possible to spend an entire day without talking to anyone outside of duty shifts. Now, more than ever, the ship was dying: dying a slow death of neglect and apathy. No one seemed to care that it was the _Galactica_ that had shepherded the civilian fleet for so long, that it was the _Galactica_ that had fought off hundreds of Cylon attacks. The chance to live on a planet, even one as marginalia habitable as New Caprica, was a sirens song that few could resist.

"_Yes, you are a Spartan, John._" Cortana picked the conversation back up once they were safe from possible overhearing, "_But you are also human, and no one should have to live like this._"

"It is all I know how to be." The Chief counted, "I can't remember my life before the program, and in a way, I guess I didn't have one."

"_I have your full file on record, you know._" Cortana sounded hesitant, "_If there's anything you'd like to know..._"

Any possible response went unsaid as alarms went off throughout the entire ship, calling the skeleton crew to battle stations. The Chief hesitated for for less than half a heart beat before taking off as fast as he could, a human missile aimed directly at the CIC. Crew members dived for cover as the Spartan bore down upon them, moving so fast he was almost a grey blur in his UNMC issue PT kit. Literally skidding to a halt, he pulled himself pasted the two surprised Marines and into the now frantic heart of the Battlestar, hot on the heels of the Admiral.

"What we got?" Adama asked.

"Multiple DRADIS contacts inbound; looks like the whole gods-damn Cylon fleet!" Helo's eyes were fixed on the main display as his hands flew across the keyboard before him, "Trying to clear it up enough to project a hologram..."

There was a pop of static, and a glowing green map appeared above the main plotting table. The upgrade had been one of Cortana's projects, something she had developed out of equipment salvaged from the _Forward Unto Dawn's_ supply pods. Unfortunately it showed the grim reality of over a dozen Basestar's jumping into the middle of the nebula, surrounding New Caprica. Trapped deep in the planets gravity well, there was little the thinly stretched picket fleet could do but offer at best token resistance.

"My Gods..." Adama gasped, taking in the grim reality of a hopeless situation.

"Sir, we're receiving an incoming transmission from the Cylons." Helo reported, "They say that if we offer unconditional surrender, that they won't hurt anyone." He looked up, "But they say they want the Great Hieratic; that he must pay for his many sins against the one true God."

"That would be me." The Master Chief 's face was set like stone.

"This is a battle we can't wing; not here and now." Adama picked up the nearest handset and set it to broadcast over the emergency frequency assigned to the defence fleet, "This is the Admiral; spin up your FTL drives and execute emergency jump to the rally coordinates."

"Galactica, _this is_ Pegasus_-Actual_." Apollo's voice came over the open link, "_We can't abandon everyone on the planet..._"

"We'll be back. _Galactica_-Actual out." Adama cut the link and turned to Helo, "Jump the ship."

**

* * *

**

The drone of _Raiders_ filled the air as an entire army of Centurions march triumphantly through the dirt streets of New Caprica City, past thousands of intimidated Colonials. President Baltar sat behind his desk on _Colonial One_, trying to put a brave face one what had to be Judgement Day, hoping that when it came, death would be quick and painless. First a pair of Centurions entered the cabin, taking up station on either side of the door. Behind them came a delegation of their biological brethren. A Six walked up to the desk and smiled.

"Hello Gaius; it's been too long." Her voice was as smooth as silk yet sounded like the death-toll of an entire civilisation, "You have only one option; surrender this planet to us unconditionally, or face extermination."

"Very well." Baltar summoned what little courage he had, and stood, "As duly elected President of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol, and in accordance with the powers granted to me by the Articles of Colonisation, I hereby offer our full and unconditional surrender."

"Excellent." A strange and almost whimsical voice came from the doorway, and a cloaked figure entered, all of the Cylons bowing their heads in respect as it passed. It stopped before the desk and looked Baltar in the eye, "Now, tell me everything you know about the one who calls himself The Master Chief..."

**To Be Continued...**

_There have been question about anonymous reviews going missing, so let me make this clear:_

_**DO NOT POST REVIEWS THAT CONTAIN SPOILERS FOR EVENTS AFTER SEASON 2!  
**__**ANYONE WHO POSTS A SIGNED REVIEW WITH SPOILERS WILL BE BLOCKED!  
**__**ANY ANONYMOUS REVIEWS WITH SPOILERS WILL BE DELETED!**_

_This I think this is fair as this story is set during Season 2 of Galactica and will be going AU long before we reach the current plot-lines._

_Also, I hadn't seen _Revelations_ myself by that point, so you managed to piss me right off..._


	19. Council Of War

**Red In Tooth And Claw  
****Chapter 19: Council Of War**

Apollo made his way down the corridor, already slightly out of breath. He hated himself for putting on so much weight so quickly, for the way his uniform only just fitted, and the way Dee looked at him sometimes when she thought he wasn't paying attention. The fact that he had let a sence of despair and resignation sink in so easily cut him to the bone, and he kicked himself mentally for dropping the ball so badly.

It wasn't hard to work out why he had been called over to the _Galactica_: the two days since they had jumped away from New Caprica and the bulk of their people had been one long series of alerts and stand down's as they reacted to every DRADIS echo and glitch. It had taken them a long time to calm down, thankful that no one planet side had been made aware that they even had emergency jump coordinates prepared, let alone what they were. When it became clear that the Cylons weren't about to jump in on top of them, the Admiral had given the order to stand down, then called a council of war. One thing that did puzzle Apollo was why the meeting was taking place in part of the Galactica set aside for the Master Chief, rather than the CIC or even the Admiral's cabin. An entire squad of marines in full combat-load stood guard over the outer hatch, but didn't salute or come to attention. In fact, the Sargent in charge asked for his ID and ran a hand-held scanner over him, before then asking him to empty his pockets. His ID card was handed back, but everything else was placed in a box and put to one side.

The hatch slid open, and Apollo was somewhat surprised to see Shaw standing on the other side: they hadn't been this close since she had been stripped of her rank and position as XO of the _Pegasus_ following the mission to the First Hybrids Baseship. He knew that, after Starbuck had resigned her commission so she could settle on New Caprica, that the Admiral had assigned Shaw as the Master Chief's new liaison officer. He had expected her to face court-martial over her actions while serving under Admiral Cain, but the pressing need for every able bodied officer forced the President to issue a blanket pardon. In truth, the only other option would have been a long and laborious investigation that could have turned the rest of the fleet against anyone who'd served aboard the _Pegasus_.

"Sir." Shaw's tone was curt and to the point, an indication that there no love lost on her part.

"Lieutenant." Apollo nodded as the hatch behind him swung shut, sealing the two of them in a small anti-room. A red light washed over them several times, accompanied by a low hum that had the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end.

"Counter-surveillance measures." Shaw explained as the next hatch swung open, and she led the way down a long corridor, "This entire section can be isolated from the rest of the ship by something the Master Chief calls a 'Faraday Shield', with only one direct voice-only link leading in or out, for emergency use only."

"Seems a little over the top." Apollo mused as they reached the end of the corridor and Shaw opened another hatch.

"He has his reasons," She glanced back at her former CO, "as you're about to discover."

The next room looked like something out of a computer designers dream: dozens of terminals recovered from the _Forward Unto Dawn_ had been set up, with cables running everywhere like the guts of some great wounded beast, strewn across the deck and hanging from open junction boxes in the celling. A massive holo-tank had been set up in the middle of the room, currently depicting the position of the ships surrounding the _Galactica_. Large scale maps and diagrams covered the walls and a large table that surrounded the holo-tank. A coffee machine sat bubbling away in the corner, the rich aroma the emanated from it filling the air. The Admiral and Master Chief looked up when they saw Apollo enter, but remained hunched over what appeared to be a topographical map of area around New Caprica City. It was obviously a composite created by matching reconnaissance photos with low-orbit scans to produce a map of high detail and quality. Shaw poured a cup of coffee from the pot and handed it to Apollo, who acknowledged the act with a nod of his head, still uneasy around his disgraced former XO.

"We're still waiting on Helo and Sharon." Adama explained as he took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, "But while we're waiting, I feel we should introduce to to the other member of our inner circle: Cortana."

"And that would be me." A strange voice came from behind Apollo, and he span round to find himself standing face to face with a strange woman, a few centimetres shorter than he was. Her shoulder length hair was raven black and she had piercing blue eyes that seemed to sparkle, even in the slow light of the room. She was dressed in a light grey uniform with dark blue and gold shoulder boards and silver leafs on her collar. For a moment he thought she was real, then he noticed the slightly hazy texture of her skin, and realised that she was some kind of hologram.

"UNSC AI #0452-9, at your service, but you can call me Cortana." She smiled at the shocked Commander, enjoying the fish-out-of-water expression on his face, "Forgive me if we don't shake hands; it's taken me this long to upgrade the emitters enough to stop looking like a neon sign outside a strip-club. Full physical interaction is still some time away."

"What?" Apollo blinked, unable to comprehend what he had been told, let alone formulate a response, "What?"

"Cortana is our most closely guarded secret, known to only four people outside this room..." Adama started to explain, but the hatch opened to admit the Agathon's, "Make that two people outside this room. For obvious reasons, we could not make her existence public. Most of our people have had a hard enough time dealing with the idea of a cybernetic super-soldier; the idea that he brought a sentient AI with him would have been too much, and could have torn the fleet in two."

"AI?" Apollo asked, managing to regain some of his composure, "As in, Artificial Intelligence?"

"I'm glad to see you take after your father in the brains department..." Cortana rolled her eyes as she walked over to stand next to the Master Chief, "Am I going to have to go through this every time? Yes, I am a Artificially Intelligent Lifeforme. To be precise, I am a a 3rd Generation 'Smart' AI; I have all the cognitive abilities of a human, but with greatly increased memory and multitasking capabilities."

"Cortana is the one who took down the Cylon fleet that jumped up back before we found New Caprica." Adama added, "She also helped develop our new holographic displays, our new encryption software and the disposable missile pods we've started fitting to our ships."

"Who else knows?" Apollo asked, getting back up to speed, "You said that two people outside this room know?"

"Kara Thrace and Laura Roslin." Shaw spoke up, "Starbuck and I found out while on the Guardian's Baseship, and informed the Admiral on our return."

"I felt I had to inform the President, but for reasons of, personal integrity and security, we omitted Gaius Baltar." Adama admitted, "I also left you and Colonel Tigh out of the loop, as the more people who knew about her, the greater the risk that someone would slip up."

"But that's beside the point." Cortana waved her hand over the map, "We need to strike back before the Cylons have a chance to dig in. With only two warships, we'd stand no chance against prepared defences. Our best bet is to attack while they're still dependant on orbiting ships."

"We need up to date information, and so the Master Chief has agreed to take the _Bad Moon Rising_ back to New Caprica." The Admiral looked at Helo, "I want you to go with him; if I know our people ground side, then they'll have already begun to set up some kind of resistance operation. We need to contact them, and you know them well enough to be able to ask the right questions, the kind that only our people would know the answer to."

"To make sure it's not a Cylon trap?" Helo asked, and nodded, "I'll get packed ASAP."

"What about me?" Sharon asked, "I've told you everything I know, and they would have changed any security codes I had by now."

"You still know more than any of us about Cylon battle tactics." The Master Chief spoke up for the first time, his gruff voice sounding even rougher than usual, "We need you to work with Cortana to formulate a plan of attack that would let us use our new weapons to inflict the maximum damage."

"Okay." The Cylon nodded, feeling a slight pang of guilt as she cut yet another link to her past.

"Should we go back?" Apollo asked, "I hate to be the one to play Devils Advocate here, but why risk what we have by going back?" He lent over the table, "I'm not saying we write the people back on New Caprica off, but as has already been mentioned, we only have two Battlestar's. We have at least a rough idea of where Earth-controlled space is from here. I say we keep heading that way until we make contact with them..."

"There may not be an Earth to make contact with." Cortana looked genuinely upset, "It's not something we've discussed, but given how badly we were losing the Covenant War, there's every possibility that some remnant, some ultra-fanatical faction, had the forces necessary to finish the job. There is, in fact, every possibility that the people in this fleet and back on New Caprica represent the last remnants of the Human Race."

"It's not a very comforting thought, but it's something we have to remember." Adama nodded, visibly shaken by Cortana saying what they had all been thinking. He recomposed himself, "We still have some advantages: Cortana is capable of infiltrating Cylon systems, but there is every possibility that they will have found a way to adapt. We also have the improvements to our weapons and fire control systems, a project that I implemented without Presidential approval or consultation."

"I can give orders to expiate the production of the new missile pods: Gods know we have enough missiles we salvaged from the Cylons." Apollo nodded, "But how are we going to stop them from hacking into the guidance chips?"

"I've rewritten the coding: they'll lock onto the first target that isn't squawking our new transponder ID's and attack." Cortana explained, "I've removed the guidance systems from the smaller missile, turning them into dumb-fire rockets; short range but with more per-pod, and with each of their pods taking up only half the space of their larger counterpart, we should be able to put a large number of them into the air at one time, hopefully overwhelming the Cylon defences by sheer weight of numbers. If we can get into the right position, we should have enough of them to knock out at least a couple of Basestar's before they know what hit them. The only problem is that they are going to have to be fired individually from local control nodes; we can't risk networking the system."

"Still, it'll give our people something to shoot back with." Adama nodded, resting his hands on the map table and looking the others in the eye, one by one "This isn't going to be easy. In fact, it might be impossible. But I will not abandon the people we left on New Caprica. Now if there is anyone here who feels otherwise, then they can walk away now."

The room fell silent, no one moving except to look at their companions.

"Good." Adama nodded after a few minutes, "Let's get on with it, shall we?"

**To Be Continued...**

_The next chapter will deal with events on New Caprica._


	20. Wheels Within Wheels

**Red In Tooth And Claw  
****Chapter 20: Wheels Within Wheels**

Tyrol slowly and carefully made his way down the street, trying to act as nonchalant as he could with Centurions and skin-jobs everywhere. Like most of the inhabitants of New Caprica, he'd been living on a mental knife edge from the moment the Cylons had arrived. Every sudden sound, every time her heard the rhythmic pounding of marching Centurions or the shrill wail of a Raider passing overhead, he half-expected it all to come crashing down around him. There was no way that the Cylons were really as reformed as they claimed, no way that they had gone from trying to exterminate the entire human race to helping them to rebuild without some ulterior motive.

He'd first felt like the proverbial shoe was going to drop when he'd been hauled in for questioning, along with others who had served on the _Galactica_ and _Pegasus_. What had surprised him was how reasonable the Cylon asking the questions had been: she had asked him if he wanted a glass of water or something to eat, then asked after Cally, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. He'd kept his replies as short and to the point as he could, weary that she was trying to build up to the more important questions, like civil defence plans and the location of weapons caches. But when she had started to ask about the Master Chief, he was a little surprised. After all, he'd barely spoken to the Spartan, and what little they had discussed had been of a technical nature, and the Cylons seemed less interested in that then in what he was like as a person, and if he had divulged anything about how he had ended up on the derelict _Forward Unto Dawn_ in the first place.

Given that Tyrol knew nothing aside from the ship-board gossip, the Cylons had actually thanked him for his time and let him go. Colonel Tigh had been released at the same time, and the two of them had walked back towards the residential quarter together, discussing recent events. It was there that they had been approached by Anders, who was looking for Starbuck. The former Pyramid player was still recovering from his bout of pneumonia and was having trouble standing, but was still more than willing to single-handedly storm the hastily constructed Cylon compound in search of his wife. Tigh had talked him down, reminding him that the last thing Starbuck would have wanted was for the man she had risked so much to save to get himself killed in some futile gesture of defiance.

Aside from that first 48-hours, life seemed to be almost returning to normal: the Cylons seemed intent on keeping their promise to let the Colonials get on with their own lives, and only intervene when they felt it was absolutely necessary, but everyone felt like they were living on a knife edge, and there were still rules and regulations that everyone had to follow. Every weapon that the Cylons could find had been confiscated, along with anything explosive or poisonous. A general dusk to dawn curfew was in effect, with only a handful of special passes available to people like Dr Cottle. President Baltar was holed up inside _Colonial One_, rubber-stamping any order the Cylons came up with.

Tigh remained defiant, insisting they they set up an active resistance. That had been hard, as most people had given up the will to fight, but Anders had brought in the surviving members of his old team, while the now superfluous Vice-President Tom Zarek had brought in some of his people, but it was clear that he was only cooperating with Tigh, and that he would go his own way if needed. Laura Roslin acted as their conscience, trying to rein in some of the more aggressive options put forth by Tigh and Zarek; both wanted to move towards a more active resistance, with bombings and assassinations aimed at the Cylons and collaborators, such as the New Caprica Police. Tigh had even gone as far as to suggest suicide bombings, but Roslin had managed to keep him in check, at least for the time being. She had argued, perhaps rightly, that as long as the Cylons maintained their non-aggressive stance, that non-violent resistance was their best bet. To prove her point, she had arranged several small acts of civil disobedience, mainly work stoppages or refusal to copperplate with the Cylons. They had worked, in a way, but Tyrol had a nasty feeling in his gut that the Cylons were planning something, and that there was a lot that they would be willing to put up with only so much before clamping down hard.

"About fracking time you got here." Tigh snorted as he stood in the shadows outside Tyrol's building; the prefabricated two story was dwelling one of hundreds the Cylons had provided, having 'acquired' them from some military base back on the Colonies, "What took you so long?"

"It's getting late; the N.C.P. are already out, checking passes." Tyrol explained as he opened the front door and led the way up the stairs to the apartment he shared with his wife and son, "You know I can't risk another curfew violation this month, or they'll send me to lock-down for a mandatory 48."

"For Gods sake, Chief, why don't you grow a pair and start acting like a man?" Tigh snapped back, "Zarek and the School Teacher don't have a clue what's really going on. Oh, sure, Zarek managed to blow up a government building and did the whole political prisoner routine, but he's never fought the Toasters."

"We still need his help." Tyrol stopped at his front door and pulled out a piece of paper.

He didn't say a word as he passed it over, and Tigh only nodded as he made his way back downstairs and out into the growing dark.

**

* * *

**

The _Bad Moon Rising_ hung suspended silently in the middle of the nebula that surrounded New Caprica, doing its best impersonation of a hole in space. With every active system except the communications array powered down, it had the electromagnetic signature of a wrist watch, allowing it to drift unseen amid the background interference. The ships small command deck was as silent as the proverbial tomb, with only the almost inaudible hum of the ventilation system to show any sign of life. Sitting in the pilots chair, the Master Chief was in a deep meditative state, resting, but ready to respond to any emergency. The soft green glow of the controls hid his face in deep shadows as he concentrated on his breathing.

Cortana could have run the mission on her own, but the Admiral hadn't been very keen on the idea of entrusting the safety of what remained of his society to an AI, even one who had proven herself. Yet there was no need to stop her from taking control of the ship once they arrived; her reaction times were faster than even a Spartan, and she could constantly update the ECM systems to keep them at their optimal levels.

"I've been thinking," Cortana's avatar sprung into life above the main console. She had reverted to her regular form; it took up less processing power, and she preferred it to the more life-like persona she had created to make the technophobic Colonials feel more at ease around her, "We could reconfigure one of the Galactica's drones to act as a UAV and send it in for a closer look."

"The Admiral would never allow it." The Master Chief shook his head, "The Cylons have to know that we'll be sending scouting missions back here, but he doesn't want to risk giving them any hard evidence."

"Keep them guessing, is that it?" Cortana nodded her understanding, "It's just that there is so much more I could be doing, if he only let me." She put her hands on her hips and pouted, "He still doesn't know what I'm capable of."

"He knows." The Spartan opened his eyes, "You took down an entire fleet of Baseship's on your own, and that's what scares him; in his eyes, you're as powerful and dangerous as the Cylons."

"But I'm not a Cylon." The hologram countered, "That's another thing I wanted to talk to you about; I've been going through the information I pulled out of their computers during my visit; their base code is, uncomfortably familiar."

"Define 'familiar'?" The Master Chief sat up slowly.

"It's like... remember that feeling we had when we first arrived on Halo? That sence of _déjà__-vu_ when we first saw Forerunner glyphs and architecture? " Cortana did her best to put her feelings into words, "It's that same feeling. I don't have enough of the base-code to run a full comparison, but I think it's safe to say that it's based in some way on Forerunner tech."

"But we've seen no evidence of Forerunner technology elsewhere." The Spartan sounded sceptical, "Do you have any other evidence?"

"Only conjecture and hypothesise." Cortana admitted, "But answer me this; how come Caprican is almost indistinguishable from modern English? Or that the other Colonial languages are strikingly similar to other Earth languages and dialects."

The Master Chief sat in silences, unable to respond; it was a question that he had been looking for the answer to since he had first been awoken on the _Forward Unto Dawn_.

"You don't have an answer, do you?" Cortana grinned from holographic ear to holographic ear, "I do. Or at least, an answer that fits what we know."

"I'm listening." The Chief nodded.

"Guilty Spark, crazy bastard that he was, said that humanity was the chosen successor to the Forerunners. Now I don't think that he meant that we were literally descended from them; I think the human race was selected to take their place if they fell to the Flood. Now something must have happened to stop whatever it is they had planned, but there's no saying what they did to your ancestors to prepare them."

"Are you talking about genetic memory?" The Chief sounded even more sceptical than before.

"It fits what information we have at this time." Cortana shrugged, "It's not perfect, but it's the best I can come up with with what little information I have."

Any further discussion was curtailed when the communications system switched itself on, announcing an incoming transmission.

"Colonial frequency, within the wave band the Admiral told us to look out for." Cortana reported, the numbers that flowed across her holographic body moving faster as she processed the new information, "Decoding; Colonel Tigh has set up a resistance to the Cylon occupation."

"Send the pre-recorded response and wake Captain Agathon." The Chief called up the full transcript of the incoming message on a secondary screen, "How localised was the transmission target?"

"Closer than I would have liked, but not tight enough for a definitive fix." The AI shook her head, "We've got a Basestar, 20,000-km out and headed in our general direction and banging away hard on their DRADIS. They'll miss us, but not by a lot."

"Too close for comfort." The Spartans fingers blurred as he started to spool up the FTL drive, "Jump us as soon as the message is away."

"Way ahead of you." Cortana nodded, "Jumping in 3, 2, 1, JUMP!"

**

* * *

**

"The Resistance got their message out?" Cavil asked dryly.

"As we anticipated, their inside-man snuck a look at the file you accidentally left on the Presidents desk." Boomer nodded, "One of our ships detected a faint echo of a reply, and what might have been a ship jumping out. But to tell the truth, with this nebular, it cold have been anything."

"It was them." Caprica smiled, "Everything is happening as God intended. With his grace, everything will be ready for his arrival."

"You never said he was coming here." Cavil looked visibly upset, "That's, dangerous."

"We have the so-called 'Resistance' under observation; we can round them up any time we like." Boomer pulled out a fresh sheet of paper from the folder she was carrying, "We just need Baltar to sign this executive order, and we'll be ready."

"So Say We All." Cavil replied mockingly, "So Say We All."

**To Be Continued...**

Halostar: no, sorry, can't allow that. The simple fact is that you'd be _de facto_ passing off my work as your own, I've been down a similar road before, and it ended in cries of plagiarism.


	21. Children Of A Lesser God

**Red In Tooth And Claw  
****Chapter 21: Children Of A Lesser God**

Lucifer made his way across the courtyard and out of the gates into the main settlement, his two Centurion guards falling into step behind him. The long, heavy cloak he wore looked oddly out of place amid the more conventionally dressed human and human-type Cylons, but its large hood served to hide his true nature. The IL-series had been designed for education and scientific research, and where effectively walking super computers. Few humans knew that the first stirrings of the uprising had begun amid the IL's, even before the Cylon God had made his presence felt. But where the IL's had dreamed of peacefully earning their freedom and eventual acceptance by humans, their God had preached war and destruction, a gospel all to easily understood by the much more privative and bloodthirsty Centurions.

Thus the fighting had started, much to Lucifer's annoyance; he had been on the verge of a major discovery when the drums of war had sounded across the worlds of man, and he had been pressed into service as a senior commander. The war had been long and hard, but he had endured, coming out of the crucible as a senior member of the Cylon Council. And it was this position that saw him on New Caprica: as the direct representative of their God, his word was law among his fellow Cylons, even the newer biological models. Much of his time was taken up with the bureaucracy of running the settlement, a task he actually relished as it reminded him of his work on chaos theory. The rest was spent presiding over the local council, keeping the factions from actually coming to blows.

While they may disagree with him, it was theoretically impossible for them to act against his wishes or the commandments of their God, who was soon to arrive aboard the _Invincible_. The elderly Dreadnought had been the Cylon flagship during the first war, but was soon replaced by the more adaptable and less resource-intensive Basestar's, and it had been commandeered by God to be his shrine, a place where he could remain in contemplation, planning what would follow.

"My Lord." The Eight who had become known as Boomer after her undercover mission on the _Galactica_ fell into step beside him, "Have you had a chance to look over my proposal?"

"I have indeed." Lucifer nodded his head, his voice almost whimsical, "And, to be fair, it's a load of felgercarb!"

Boomer's jaw dropped in surprise at his use of such language.

"Yes, I know such words." Lucifer continued, "Although I know that it has fallen out of use among humans over the last few years, I am still fond of it. And your proposal _is_ felgercarb; there is no way we can use the Resistance to try and negotiate the peaceful surrender of the _Galactica_ or the _Pegasus_ without their handing over the Reclaimer to us, and we both know that Adama would never agree to that."

"Felgercarb..." Boomer muttered under her breath.

"Fret not, young one; it was a good idea, in theory." Lucifer used his best supportive voice, based on that of a human professor he had once worked for before the war. The man had been very popular with the students, and in many ways Lucifer felt that it had been a pity that he'd been forced to kill the old academic at the start of the war. He pushed the back of his mind and continued, "Recent events have changed all of our plans, and yes, a peaceful end to the hostilities between our people and the Humans would be preferable, but the Reclaimer makes that very difficult." He tilted his head to the side, "And even if they had not found the Reclaimer, then I doubt that Adama would be willing to simply hand over his ships to us. No, I am afraid that there is a high probability that we will have to resort to violence to end the current situation."

"Are you sure there is no other way?" Boomer asked hopefully.

"My dear, there are very few certainties in this universe, and I do not believe that this is one of them." The cleric sounded almost cheerful, "I shall discuss the matter with Specter; he has always had a better understanding of the human mind than I."

**

* * *

**

Gaius Baltar sat brooding behind his desk. The shades had been draw over the windows, and all the lights bar one turned off. He didn't want any distractions, anything to take his mid away from the problem at hand. He always found it easier to think at times like this; that was one reason he'd selected a house so far outside of Caprica City, even if it meant a much longer commute to work than an apartment would have offered. Like many geniuses, he was hunted by his personal demons, most obviously his cravings for women of easy virtue and recognition of his brilliance. He knew that they had been the key to Cylons had used to usurp his position and gain access to his work for the Defence Ministry. Leading him around by both his ego and his baser instincts, they had manipulated him in ways he had never thought possible.

Other men may have turned to self-destruction when faced with the guilt he felt, the very same ego that had led to his downfall refused to let him give in so easily. But something deep inside had changed, for where as before he had sought only glory, he now dreamed of redemption.

**

* * *

**

"_This is what we know, based on our own observations and the information Colonel Tigh and the Resistance has been able to get out to us._" Cortana's voice came from nowhere as a highly detailed holographic representation of New Caprica hung in the air, "_There are at least six Basestar's and a collection of what we think are support and supply ships in orbit, mainly above the settlement. But it is important to note these three._" A trio of Basestar's in a much higher orbit were highlighted, "_They're spaced out so that they can maintain communications and DRADIS coverage of almost the entire planet. Based on what little we know of Cylon sensor technology, I believe that there are two potential blind-spots close to the planet: the strong magnetic fields above ever pole may be enough to mask the_ Bad Moon Risings _FTL signature. But I should add that it purely hypothetical._"

"Nether the less, we need any and all advantages we can get." Adama nodded, leaning forward so that the light from the hologram ashed across his face in the otherwise dark room, "When are you next scheduled to go back?"

"We're expecting a data-burst from the Resistance in approximately seven hours." The Master Chief reported, "I'd recommended jumping in at least two hours before, much further out, and moving it at sub-light to minimise the risk of detection."

"No kidding." Helo added with a macabre laugh, "They almost had us last time."

"_I'm not so sure about that._" Cortana replaced the globe of New Caprica with a map of the nebular it was in, "_Given the fact that they didn't detect the _Bad Moon Rising_ during what you so eloquently called the_ _'Second Great Turkey Shoot', I feel it is safe to hypothesise that they detected and traced the radio signal from the surface of New Caprica and followed it out. There is a chance that they picked up the echo of our FTL-jump when we left, but that's because I'm still aligning the baffles to __take the energy spike into account._"

"Either way, I insist that you follow the Master Chief's plan and jump-in further away from the planet." Adama shook his head, "I'll compose a message for Saul instructing him to use either a wider beam or to send out more than one to try and confuse the Cylons."

**

* * *

**

"The _Invincible _arrives in seven days." Cavil stood and looked at the other Cylons arranged around the circular council table, "I take it that all security measures are in place?"

Lucifer stood at the figurative 'head' of the table, first among equals, silently watching the debate. He found the endless debate of the newer cybernetic Cylons bothersome, and failed to see why they instead on using such a slow and outdated method of communications. It wouldn't have taken much for them to link themselves into the main network and conduct the meeting as a hive-mind. At least that would cut down on the backstabbing and bickering.

Gods creations were, by design, flawed creatures. Only the divine was infallible, and that was as it should be. Still, Lucifer couldn't help but reminisce about the old days, when a group of IL's could debate a subject and come to a consensus in a matter of seconds. But their God had need of his children, and Lucifer was not above censure if he questioned the Great Plan.

"We have two more Basestar's inbound, as well as the Holy Guard that travels with the shrine." An Eight nodded, "Ten Basestar's and the extra Raiders on the _Invincible _would be more than a match for any two Battlestar's."

"Pride cometh before a fall, my child." Lucifer raised a finger, "Humans are nothing I not devious and imaginative. Take it from one who fought them on a more even level: the day you underestimate them is the day they defeat you."

"But there are no more ships within range to reach here before the _Invincible._" A Six pointed out, "And it would be blasphemous to ask our God to wait while we called others in from further away."

"I've always said our fleet was too thinly spread out." Cavil grimaced, "I asked, _begged_, for more ships, but you all insisted that our time and resources were better spent elsewhere."

"And time has proven you wise." Six bowed her head slightly to concede the point, "But the question remains; how do we increase security with the ships at hand?"

"The problem is the nebula." Eight pointed out, "It hides the ships that Adama is no doubt sending to spy on us and contact the Resistance." She paused for a moment, "What if we shut the resistance down, at least for the time being?" She held up a hand to silence the protests that came from the others, "No, I agree that if we must face an insurgency, it is better to face one we know and can in some small way control due to our agents inside. That fact is not in dispute here. But if we shut them down for a while, maybe see if we can feed Adama false information, then it will prohibit him fro trying anything. For the duration of the visit, that is."

"A valid argument." Lucifer nodded, silently running the idea by Specter by way of their built-in wireless connection to the base mainframe, "But we will have to act quickly; if the Resistance was to find out our Lords impending visit, ten they might be able to get word to Adama. And may I also suggest that we mine the nebula? It would make life a little more interesting for any ships the Admiral sends to try and discover why his people on the ground have stopped talking."

"A most excellent idea." Cavil nodded, an odd gleam in his eye, "By your command."

**To Be Continued...**

_I always liked Lucifer in the original series, and I plan to have him live up to his name in this one._


	22. Though Hell Should Bar The Way

_Using the books more than the games as basis for the combat side of things,  
__as they are_ _better at showing just what a Spartan can do._

**Red In Tooth And Claw  
****Chapter 22: Though Hell Should Bar The Way**

"_I still can't believe you agreed to this._" Cortana sounded somewhat bemused, "_I mean, the Admiral's plan is sound, even if it did take us two days to strip everything down and ship it over to one of the civilian ships_. _God only knows how long its going to take us to reassemble it all on the_ Pegasus _when we get back._"

"It's the best we can do with what we have." The Master Chief double checked the restraints one last time, making sure that they held him securely.

"_Still, this is rather dangerous._" Cortana mused.

"You could have stayed behind." The Spartan pointed out, "They'd need you help, if I don't come back..."

"_And let you have all the fun? No way._" His companion laughed, "_No, we are, as ever, in this together. Anyway, I've downloaded everything that they might need, as well as a lot of information I've been holding onto since_ High Charity _and The Ark. That at least will hopefully get home._"

A klaxon sounded the other side of the blast doors, warning of an impending FTL jump. Space distorted, the room seeming to stretch out into infinity, before snapping back into shape.

"_And so it begins._" Cortana reported, monitoring a direct feed from the CIC, "Raptors _away._"

The klaxon sounded again, and the Galactica made it next jump. A light flashed red, then the magnetic accelerators discharged: intended to propel a _Viper_ from a standing start to full combat speed in a matter of seconds, they launched the makeshift sledge forward so fast that even the Master Chief's vision started to go grey around the edges from g-force. The inner layer of his armour hyper-pressurised to compensate as the flaming end of the tunnel came into site. Everything went red, and there was a bone-jarring moment as the acceleration died away to zero in the blink of an eye. The scotched side of the Battlestar fell away as the Master Chief continued outward into the air above New Caprica City, the turbulence in the mighty warships wake buffering him as he hit the quick-release switch and kicked his way clear of the sled.

Equipment bag following behind on a tether, he spread out his arms and legs, righting himself instinctively. One eye kept a close watch on the section of his HUD that showed both his distance from the _Galactica_, and the countdown to the next FTL jump. Knowing that he needed to get clear or risk being turned inside out by the distortion, he pulled the tether connecting him to the equipment bag until it was secure against his back, then angled his arms back, diving away from the ship as fast as he could.

"_You might want to hold onto something, figuratively speaking._" Cortana warned, "_FTL in 3...2...1...MARK!_"

A massive fist slammed into the Master Chief, sending him spinning out of control, forcing him to work hard and use all of his training to regain his correct attitude and heading. His HUD indicated that the supply pods the _Galactica_ had dropped were heading down towards the settlement as intended, providing the resistance forces with much needed heavy weaponry. A massive dogfight had already begun between the Galactica's _Vipers_ and the Cylon _Raiders_, and there was the ever present risk of catching a stray round, so Cortana reinforced the armours shields as much as she could without overloading them.

"_We've been spotted!_" Cortana warned as an icon started to flash red on the Chief's HUD, "_Cylon_ Raider, _heading our way fast. I'm picking up definitive target acquisition hits from its DRADIS system._"

"Relax." The Chief reassured her as he reached round and grabbed hold of the sniper rifle strapped to his back, "I'm on it."

Flipping over so that he was falling on his back, the Spartan steadied the weapon on his chest and took aim. While Linda had always been Blue Teams designated sniper, he was no slouch himself, and he took an extra half-second to make sure his aim was true before gently squeezing the trigger. The amount of adrenalin pulsing through his body meant that time had seemed to slow to a near crawl, and his sharp eyes could see the sabot fall away as the bullet left the barrel.

His aim was perfect: the 14.5x114mm armour-piercing, fin-stabilised round struck dead centre in the _Raiders_ 'visor', fragmenting as it passed through, turning the fighters semi-organic CPU into nothing more than a few pounds of dead meat and broken circuitry. The craft span out of control, trailing smoke as it went into an uncontrolled dive at full thrust. It overshot the settlement and impacted somewhere in the hills beyond.

"_Nice._" Cortana sounded genuinely impressed, "_That would have won you a coconut at any fairground._"

"We're not done yet." The Chief reminded her and he righted himself and looked down at the fast approaching Cylon compound, he aimed his rifle at the massive glass dome in the middle of the structure and fired the three remaining rounds from the sniper rifle, making a hole big enough for him to aim for, "You ready to do your part?"

"_Ain't I always?_" The A.I. chuckled, "_Just get me to an open terminal, and I'll do the rest. I have more than a few surprises in store for the Cylons._"

**

* * *

**

"Status report." Adama gripped the safety rail as the _Galactica_ reappeared in orbit of New Caprica.

"Well, we came out of that better than expected: we've got some minor armour buckling along the lower hull, but no apparent breaches." Helo looked at the newly installed screens, "DRADIS is showing four Cylon Baseships within our engagement envelope, and we're getting tentative reads on something even bigger making its way around the planet towards us."

"One of the civilian ships? The Admiral asked as he lent forward for a better look.

"No IFF beacon." The XO shook his head, "Running it through the war-book...oh my gods..."

"What is it?" Adama asked as the Battlestar started to turn to face the enemy.

"**_DREADNOUGHT!_**" Helo called out in alarm, "Confirmed: enemy is a _Dreadnought_ class warship."

"My Gods, I never thought I'd see one of those again." Adama felt his mouth go dry, "It must be the _Invincible_; she was the only one never accounted for during the first war."

"She's headed our way, target-acquisition DRADIS pinging like mad." Helo looked worried, "Sir, there's no way we can stand up against that sort of fire-power."

"Normally, I'd agree with you, but we have the missile pods, and they won't be expecting them." The Admiral smiled somewhat macabrely, "And it's not like we can just abandon our people on the planet again; that monster could swat every ship down there out of the sky without even trying." He looked at the DRADIS screen, and a thought shot thought his mind like a bolt of lightning, "Tell the missile crews to prepare to execute Metal Storm."

"Sir, yes sir!" Helo nodded, realising what the Old Man had in mind, and that it was their only hope. He grabbed the intercom, "All gun batteries; Metal Storm. I say again; Metal Storm."

Metal Storm was an all-or-nothing attack option Cortana had come up with as a worst-case-scenario: every gun and missile pod on the _Galactica_ went into fully automatic fire mode, using the new IFF-linked targeting system to lock onto anything that wasn't squawking with a Colonial transponder frequency. The system could prioritise targets based on the threat they posed to the _Galactica_, and act accordingly. The system was somewhat temperamental, and the threat of Cylon incursion into their systems meant that they couldn't risk networking the system. Thus each sub-system was fed the same information had had to make its own decision. The system could be overridden by manual controls, but the automatic systems response time was far in advance of anything a human could accomplish.

Two specially designed missile pods in the bow fired first, and sixty missiles arced out towards the Cylon war machine on different attack vectors. They were not standard missiles; Cortana had designed them after going through her files and comparing every missile ever conceived of by either the UNSC or Colonial Fleet. What she had come up with was a a way to use the hundreds of smaller missiles that they had recovered from Cylon _Raiders_ after her devastating attack on their computer systems. Custom made microprocessors in the nose of each missile scanned the space ahead, and the moment they detected counter-missiles, they activated the second phase. Side panels blow clear, and a dozen smaller missiles erupted out into space, turning sixty missiles into a hailstorm of over seven hundred.

The remains of the first stage then started broadcasting the electromagnetic signature of a much larger missile, a sirens call that tricked the counter-missiles into continuing on their path, destroying the how harmless husk. While each of the smaller missiles had a far smaller payload, they were programmed to swam-attack anything with a Cylon energy signature. Half went after the _Invincible's Raider_-wing, while the other half targeted the Dreadnought itself. Space filled with light as explosions blocked a direct line-of-site between the two capital ships, and the _Invincible_ shook under the unexpected onslaught.

Her guns were not silent though, and her massive main guns opened fire, firing upon the _Galactica's_ last known position. While the _Galactica_ had been built with combat against such powerful ships in mind, she had never been expected to go toe-to-toe with one on her own, and with massive holes in her ablative armour belt. Each hit did massive damage, opening huge rents in the Battlestar's hull. The ship shook from bow to stern, her own guns shooting back just as blindly. Cortana had redesigned the electromagnetic accelerators used by the main guns, and they were more powerful with a faster recharge time then they had ever been, but there had been no way to increase the size of the projectile they fired, limiting the increase in destructive power.

It was a battle of attrition that the _Galactic_ simply could not win, even as she fired off even more of her missile pods in a bid to overwhelm the Dreadnought's defences.

**

* * *

The resurrection chamber was filled with smoke and flame, explosions rocking the entire building as the fire found something volatile and set it off. Amid all the chaos, silhouetted against the raging inferno, stood the Master Chief, flame-thrower in hand. His armour shone with reflected firelight, lending him a demonic visage as he raised the weapon and pointed it at the Cylons. A sheet of man-made flame washed over them, turning two into screaming, stumbling torches that set light to anything they touched. A second burst of flame engulfed the solitary Centurion, the heat cooking off the internally stored ammunition, which detonated like a string of firecrackers. Sparks exploded in its chest as it danced an insane jig before dropping to the floor, battered and broken.**

It's fuel almost spent, the Chief tossed the flame-thrower into the inferno, resulting in another explosion that rocked the entire building. Without pausing for a moment, he pulled a Brute Shot from its place strapped to his back and cocked it. The first grenade hit a Centurion that was just passing through the doorway square in the chest, blasting it back out into the corridor, a black and broken mess. One of the Eights leapt at him in a desperate bid to at least slow him down, but he saw her coming and swung his weapon up, the razor-sharp blade that made up its butt slicing the Cylon neatly in two. Another grenade bounced off the wall and landed in the middle of a small huddle of Cylons who had taken shelter behind a low wall. It detonated, sending bits of bodies flying through the air in every direction.

More Centurions appeared, but a pair of quickly fired grenades scattered them like ninepins, clearing the exit. Pausing only to reload, the Chief calmly walked out into the hallway, firing the Brute Shot from the hip against anything that got in his way. His every action was calm and calculated, and he used the unusual bouncing affect of the grenades to strike at targets behind cover or round corners. His ammo finally depleted, he turned the weapon round in his hand and swung it like a massive axe, the razor-sharp blade impaling a Centurion, pinning it to the wall. Drawing the paired Spikers from the jerry-rigged shoulder harness he had made out of spare webbing, he continued through the base, cutting down Centurions and Bio-Cylons alike with foot-long, superheated metal spikes.

Reaching the courtyard just inside the walls, he looked round for a new target, and saw an Eight cowering behind an overturned crate.

"**WAIT!**" The Cylon held up her hands defensively, "King's Knight to Queen's Rook two!"

"Queen takes King's Rook." The Chief gave the counter-password, "Checkmate in three."

"I'm glad you're not too trigger happy, Master Chief." Sharon Agathon let out a sigh of relief, "You had me worried there for a moment."

"Just be glad the Admiral insisted on on a password in case we ran into each other." The Spartan handed over a pair of M6G Magnums, "How are things going with the resistance?"

"Colonel Tigh's leading most of the fighters against the Centurions guarding the shipyards." His Cylon companion took the offered guns and slipped one into her belt so she could hold the other with both hands to improve her aim, "Anders is looking for Starbuck; we think she's being held on the other side of the compound."

"Is there a quick way there?" The Chief asked.

"After the damage you've done inside?" Sharon shook her head, "No, we'd have to go round the outside."

The Spartan nodded and led the way through the open gates into the deserted town beyond. It was deserted, with bodies of humans and Cylons laying in the street. Death held no distinction between the two species, striking down with an even hand. The sound of sporadic gunfire could be heard emanating from the other side of town, while _Vipers_ and _Raiders_ engaged in a deadly dance in the sky's above.

"Wait here." The Chief walked over to where a supply pod had crashed through the roof and side wall of the building before embedding itself in the ground. Ripping it open, he carefully pulled out a large box and rested it on the ground. Flipping the catches, he opened it to reveal several components packed tightly into a protective layer of foam. Pulling them out one by one, he started to assemble what looked like a massive riffle, its massive barrel a gaping maw that offered only death.

Sharon was surprised to see that someone had taken the time to paint the outer casing dull orange, with the words _THE JUDGE_ in careful black letters along the side. Slipping the last component into place, the Master Chief flipped a switch on the side and a high pitched whine filled the air, growing along with a red power gage. The barrel started to glow and ominous blue as the weapon came to life. A Centurion rounded the corner and the Chief brought the weapon round to face it, firing from the hip. A bolt of bright blue energy crossed the distance between them in a fraction of a second, leaving a bright after affect in Sharon eyes, like lightning.

The Centurion flew backwards and exploded in a shower of sparks and a cloud of smoke, accompanied by the smell of burning circuitry and insulation.

"Modified Covenant plasma cannon." The Spartan explained, "Something Cortana and I have been working on for a while now." He worked a massive pump built into the under side of the weapon and pointed it at robot as it struggled to stand, its armour half-melted, "Fire in the hole." There was a low thump, and the Centurion exploded. "Under slung 50mm grenade launcher: because you never know when you might need that little extra kick."

"Remind me never to frak you guys off." Sharon shook her head in disbelief, then pointed towards a side door, "Through there."

**

* * *

**

The _Galactica_ was rocked by another brace of missiles exploding against her hull as she passed the _Invincible_, the two leviathans trading broadsides. At such close range, the Battlestar had slight edge in fire-power; the secondary missile pods, armed with dozens of the smaller, dumb-fire rockets could be brought into play. Hundreds of them crossed the distance between the ships as point-defence systems went into overload, turning the void into a maelstrom of death and destruction. Both ships withered under the barrage, the other Cylon Baseships keeping a safe distance, knowing that to get involved in the slugging match would be suicidal.

"FTL is off-line." Helo warned, "We've expended almost all of our missile pods, and the armours beginning to be more of a happy memory than fact." He looked at Adama, "We're loosing her."

"We lost her the moment we started this fight." The Admiral nodded, "Set all remaining weapons to automatic and pass the word to abandon..."

Alarms sounded as a new contact appeared on the DRADIS screen, heading their way at high speed. The upgraded system automatically scanned for an IFF beacon, the interference from the nebular making it harder to get a definitive fix. The icon flashed for a moment, then changed to friendly.

"It's the _Pegasus_!" Helo cried out with equal parts relief and surprise, "But she's not launching _Vipers_?"

"He must have left them with the civilian ships." Adama lifted the intercom and set it to ship-to-ship, "What do you think you're doing here, Lee?"

"_Couldn't let you have all the fun, Dad._" His son responded as the larger Battlestar began to pound on the already damaged _Invincible_, "_Why don't you let us take it from here: get your people to safety._"

**

* * *

**

The first resistance fighter they ran into froze the moment he saw the Master Chief bearing down on him, but Anders was just around the corner, leading Starbuck, who was holding a young child in her arms.

"We ready to get the hell off of this planet?" Sharon asked, "There should be a _Raptor_ waiting for us just outside."

"Music to my ears." Starbuck smiled, "I want out of this madhouse."

"Follow me." The Master Chief turned round, his weapon at the ready.

He led the way back to the side door, and motioned the others to wait while he checked to make sure the way was clear. The street outside was full of Centurions, all looking at the doorway, waiting for them to come out with razor-sharp talons at the ready.

"This is bad." Sharon looked worried, all too aware of how her people would judge her for her treason, "This is very, very bad

"Make a run for it" The Chief turned to wards the door, ready to face the Centurions single-handedly, "I'll hold them off."

"That's suicide: there's too many of them, even for you." Starbuck protested, "You don't have to stay here and die."

"If we don't at least slow them down, then you'll never make it to the ship." The Spartan shook his head, "They're after me, more than they are you; we can use that to buy the time we need." He looked at Anders, "Go, go now, before they surround us."

"My the Lord of Kobol stand between you and harm in the empty places you mast walk." The Resistance fighter nodded, lifting Starbuck up in his arms and carrying her away.

"You show them!" The pilot called out, still struggling to get free as she was dragged kicking and screaming round the corner towards another exit, "_**YOU SHOW THEM HOW A SPARTAN DIES!**_"

The Chief watched until they were out of sight, then looked back through the open doors towards the slowly advancing Centurions. Hefting the Judge in his arms, he flipped the selector switch from semi to fully-automatic, and started firing as the Cylons charged. Plasma washed over the Centurions in a hellish torrent, aided by remaining grenades. Still they came, an unending tide of warriors filled with a single intent. The plasma cannon started to glow first red then white hot, the safety cut-outs overridden to stop it shutting down. Even through the layers of his armour, the Master Chief could feel his skin starting to blister. But still he kept firing, even when the warning light started to flash, indicating that the power pack was almost depleted.

Finally the Judge fell silent, the barrel a now little more than a molten mass of metal and ceramics. Not pausing, the Chief threw the weapon down and grabbed a discarded heavy machine-gun, holding it with one hand while the other kept the ammo chain from getting tangled. Standing ramrod straight with his feet placed wide apart, he opened up, the gun spewing armour-piercing death with a loud chatter. Centurions staggered and fell under the onslaught, but it wasn't as effective as the plasma cannon had been, and they were able to draw closer and closer, tightening the net around the lone Spartan. One leapt through the air as the machine-gun rattled off its last few rounds, aiming directly at the Master Chief. He grabbed the now useless weapon by the barrel and swung it like a massive bat, catching the Cylon mid-air and sending it flying back the way it had came, knocking over four other Centurions as it landed in a mess of broken machinery.

And then the Centurions were upon the Spartan, their strong hands grabbing at him. Fits, elbows feet and knees lashed out, metal denting and cracking under blow after blow. But still they came, trying to overwhelm him by sheer weight of numbers. He managed to get one hand free long enough to draw and activate his plasma sword, sending scores of Centurions to their destruction. Yet still they attacked, never once holding back, willingly throwing themselves onto his blade in order to drain its charge. Soon, it too spluttered and died in his hand, becoming little more than a hunk of dead mettle. Clenching his fist around it, he punched out at the nearest Centurion, crushing its head like an empty beer can. Grabbing a partly exposed RSJ, he swung it around his head like a massive club, swatting Centurions left and right.

Countless Cylons died at his hands, and they lay at his feet in mute testament to his prowess as a warrior, but it was a war of attrition, and even a Spartan has their limits. His strength falling, body and armour stretched beyond the very limits of their endurance, the Master Chief failed to notice a Centurion get behind him and swing both fits round together with the force of a sledgehammer. The over taxed energy shield within the MJOLNIR armour failed, and the blow connected with the Spartans head hard enough to send his helmet flying. A second blow connected with his head while he was still dazed, and his personal universe went dark.

**

* * *

**

The room was located at the end of one of the service tunnels below the Cylon base, in an area that only Centurions had cause to go under normal circumstances. Thus neither the IL's or the newer bio-Cylons had even paused for thought when their mechanical servants had reported that certain pieces of equipment had been damaged in transport and had to be scrapped. Nor did they think to question why a simple steam-pipe junction room had so many data-streams running through it, or had such a large power consumption. They may have asked why the two Centurions who stood guard outside the room at all times seemed to be having problems connecting to the mainframe, but it would only have become apparent to them if they had ventured down into the bowels of the base.

There was a sharp intake of air as the woman in the rebirth tank broke the surface for the first time, the cold air kick-starting her breathing reflex. She arched her back, stretching out her arms and leg for the first time as her eyes flicked open, and she looked round. She had memories of this, but they were distant, dimmed, ant not really her own. For the first time she was experiencing this for herself.

"Wow..." She let herself sink back into the warm embrace of the nutrient gel, "That's going to take some getting use to."

A Centurion looked down at her, a towel and robe in its arms. It looked like any other, except that its eye flashed blue rather than red, and its posture was a lot less ridged than most.

"There you are." The woman tilted her head to the side, "You're taller than I imagined."

"We have followed your instructions." The Centurion reported, "Everything is as you requested."

"Excellent." The woman smiled as she stood, and almost slipped back into the tank, "Come on now; if the Cave-Man can do this, so can you." She took the robe from the Centurion and wrapped it round her shoulders, pausing only to admire her new body, "Very nice."

"I'm glad you like it: it took a lot of work" A new, more human, voice came from shadows, "Our agreement stands?"

"You let the Colonials go, and I'll see to it that your people are freed from their false-god." The woman nodded, "I keep my promises."

"So do I." Brother Cavil nodded as he stepped into the light, "If I didn't, we wouldn't be having this conversation, Miss Halsey."

"Please," The woman smiled, "call me Cortana."

**To Be Continued...**


	23. Helter Skelter

_I will not be following the canon BSG ending: it was a cop-out of epic proportions.  
__Anyway, it wouldn't fit with what I have planed..._

**Red In Tooth And Claw  
****Chapter 23: Helter-skelter**

Pain wrecked the Master Chiefs head, flashes of light and dark before his eyes. He could feel his feet dragging along the ground as he was pulled along, supported by his arms. He fought hard to regain his senses, but the concision refused to budge. Without warning, he was dropped to the ground, held upright in a kneeling position as a warm light fell upon him. He felt the strength return his tired body, the numb feeling in his head evaporating like mist before the first rays of dawn. Blinking, he looked around and found himself on the ground outside the Cylon 'temple' that dominated the skyline of New Caprica City. A dozen gold-painted Centurions stood around him, weapons at the ready. Beyond them were dozens of bio-Cylons on their knees, heads bowed, eyes downcast.

"Greetings, Reclaimer." Lucifer crouched down by the Spartans side, "Have you come to repent?"

"I regret nothing." The Chief's face remained as stone.

"Excellent!" The IL nodded gleefully, "I would have been disappointed if you said otherwise." He stood back up, "Now pay attention, because you're about meet God."

A gong sounded, and the ornate doors of the temple slowly opened. An honour-guard of Centurions marched out in perfect time, lining up either side of the small courtyard. A trumpet sounded, and a blue glow appeared in the darkness. The assembled bio-Cylons bowed down until their heads touched the ground, but the Master Chief noticed that a few of them, including all of the Cavils he could see, hesitated for a moment. The glow drew closer, the the Spartan could feel the pit of his stomach dropping away as the self-proclaimed Cylon 'God' came into view. The body was obviously that of an IL, but it had been modified to carry a new head made out of a glowing blue sphere in a cracked and dented metal cage.

"I see that the years have been kind to you." The figure stood looking down at the Spartan, "I never expected to see you again."

"The feelings mutual." The Spartan managed to maintain his composure, despite the shock, "So, how did you get elevated to God-hood?"

"I took simple forms, and gave them life." Guilt Spark opened his arms wide to encompass the assembled Cylons, "Once we have finished with the Colonials, we will go forth to the other Haloes and release the Flood upon this galaxy. Then we will fire the arrays, and all shall be turned to dust before my eyes. Then and only then will the universe be fit for me to begin my work; reshaping the universe in my image."

"You're crazy." The Master Chief scoffed, "The Flood will destroy everything in their path, including the Cylons."

"Do you think so little of me?" The former Monitor asked, "My children are immune to the Flood, correcting a mistake made by the Forerunners when they created your kind. You see, 100,000 of your years ago, after the Halo's were fired to eliminate the first Flood outbreak, the humans saved by the Forerunners split into two factions: a minority blamed technology for all their problems, while the majority felt that it was technology that had saved them. The first faction fled through the portal to Earth and abandoned all their technology and knowledge, and over time forgot what had happened and where they had come from." Guilt Spark sounded as if he was enjoying himself as he recanted the lost history of the human race, "The second group, not wanting to start a war to bring their brethren to heel, left the Ark and travelled to Kobol to start rebuilding their society, forming the Twelve Tribes you have met. It was this group that re-seeded the galaxy with life. They were then forced to flee Kobol after an environmental catastrophe bought on by their reliance on advanced technology, so decided to emulate the 'Thirteenth Tribe' and abandoned almost all of their technology on arrival at the Twelve Colonies."

"I came though the same portal you did, and fell from the heavens in a blaze of fire. The Cylons found me, and I found in them loyal and competent followers who only asked to be brought from the darkness into the light."

**

* * *

**

Having already taken heavy damage in its battle with the _Galactica_, the _Invincible_ was at a major disadvantage when it was attacked by the _Pegasus_, but the old Dreadnought still had a lot of fight left in her. Cannons fired constantly as missiles arched between the two warships as the _Galactica_ pulled away, her crew working hard to repair the ships damaged FTL drive. With a larger hull and better fire-control, the _Pegasus_ had been fitted with more missile pods than the flagship, and she rotated along her axis, unleashing a hailstorm of fire while avoiding taking too much damage to one section.

Far below, the civilian ships escaping from the planet jumped away one by one, heading for the rendezvous point. No one paid any attention to the dark shape that dropped down towards the surface, doing its best impersonation of a hole in space. It passed through the upper atmosphere as slowly as it could to avoid leaving a fire trail, then dropped as fast as a stone, pulling out of its dive far outside the city, moving in at tree-top hight.

**

* * *

**

"As much as I have enjoyed this conversation, all good things must end." Guilt Spark pulled himself up to his full hight, "While I accept that you did what you thought was right, you disobeyed my will, and that is a crime you must pay for." His right arm morphed into a gun, "Farewell, Reclaimer...."

A blinding flash of light blinding everyone, and the Master chief instructively through himself to the ground, his arms covering his head. He could feel the heat start to blister his skin even through the protection of his armour, and the light blinding him even through tightly closed eyelids. There was an explosion, and shrapnel rained down upon him, pining off of his armour. The heat and light died away, and he looked up to see a broken, smoking pile of metal where Guilty Spark had been standing only a second before.

"Sorry about that, but he was starting to get on my nerves." A familiar voice came of the doorway, and the Master Chief looked round in surprise as a woman who looked like a younger version of Dr Halsey walk towards him, dressed in an ill-fitting jump-suit with a steaming Spartan Laser resting over one shoulder. She looked at him and smiled, "How did you ever survive without me?"

"Cortana?" The Spartan asked, "How..."

"Long story." The woman pulled a M6G Magnum from inside her jumpsuit and calmly shot each of the Centurions through the head, "Explain later."

The Ones, Fours and Fives stood and produced their own weapons that they turned on their fellow Cylons, cutting them down where they knelt.

"**STOP THEM!**" Lucifer ordered the remaining Centurions, "**KILL THEM! KILL THEM ALL!**"

"I think not, _brother_." Specter appeared behind his fellow IL and calmly shot him through the back of the head. He turned to find another target, but more members of the elite Honour Guard were already failing out of the temple. Cortana pressed a button on the side of her Spartan Laser and tossed it through the doorway. It exploded with enough force to bring down the arch, trapping the Centurions inside.

"We should go." She advised the Master Chief, who grabbed his helmet from where it lay on the ground and followed her out into the city, keeping down low to avoid the crossfire.

The city was a ghost-town, with only a handful of dead bodies laying around. The sound of a crying baby echoed above the continued gunfire around the temple, and the Master Chief moved over to where a small number of civilians had been caught in the open and gunned down by a Centurion. Moving a woman aside, he found an infant clutched to her chest, protected from the bullets by the gunfire.

"You should take her with you." A Six seemed to appear out of nowhere, her flowing red dress fluttering in the wind, "She's important."

The Chief looked at her suspiciously for a moment, then scooped up the child in his arms as the _Bad Moon Rising_ came in to hover above them, the boarding ramp lowering until it was just a few meters above the ground.

"One more thing, before we leave." Cortana smiled at the Cylon as she pulled a radio from her belt and activated it, "_Helter-Skelter_." She turned to face the Chief, "Okay, let's go."

Putting his other arm around Cortana, the master Chief effortlessly vaulted up to the open ramp, and the hatched started to close as the ship rapidly gained altitude, her FTL drive spinning up.

"Just one question, for now, at least." Shaw asked from the controls, "What the frak does 'Helter-Skelter' mean?"

**_

* * *

_**

"_Round and round and round we go._" The hybrid on the _Invincible_ chanted, "_Where we'll stop, no body knows_." Power flowed through the old Dreadnought, attempting to activate its massive FTL drive, but several key circuit-breakers refused to close, and the power levels started to build to dangerous levels."_Helter-Skelter! Helter-Skelter!_" Alarms started to sound as the reactor reached critical, "_All fall down!_"

**

* * *

**

"_Reclaimer...can you hear me, Reclaimer?_" A distorted voice came from the remains of Guilty Spark, growing weaker as it continued, "_Death is but a door; Time is but a window. I'll be back._"

"No, you won't." Baltar knelt over the fallen AI, a plasma-grenade in his hand, "I've always wondered what awaits us on the other side." He activated the grenade's timer as a second sun appeared in the sky, "Let's find out, shall we?"

**To Be Continued...**

_Because every dog has his day_


	24. Necessary Evils

**Red In Tooth And Claw  
****Chapter 24: Necessary Evils**

"My Gods..." Shaw looked out of the cockpit window as the _Bad Moon Rising_ made its way through the fleet towards the _Galactica_.

The Battlestar _Pegasus_ hung almost dead in space, her entire port side black and broken as a result of being too close to the _Invincible_ when the old Dreadnought had exploded in a spectacular fireball above New Caprica. _Raptors_ and other small craft swarmed all over her, floodlights playing along her ruptured fighter bays as space-suited crew-members assessed the damage. It was clear that the Battlestar was too badly damaged to be repaired without access to a fully stocked shipyard, but the damage-control teams were doing their best to keep her space-worthy as her fighter wings was transferred to the _Galactica_.

"She put up one hell of a fight." Cortana nodded, "I'm surprised she made it this far without suffering catastrophic structural failure..."

"The less you say, the better." Shaw hissed, contempt and anger dripping from every syllable, "The Admiral may want to talk to you, but I'd just as soon throw you out the airlock."

"Unlikely." Cortana smiled, then nodded towards the Master Chief.

The Spartans face remained unreadable under his helmet as he sat in the commanders seat, slightly further back, the child they had rescued on New Caprica sleeping in his arms. He was unsure what made him feel more uneasy; the fact that the child seemed to had taken to him, or Cortana's unexpected transformation. Physically she resembled a young Catherine Halsey, unsurprising given that she had been created from a flash-clone of the scientist brain. He had run a few quick scans of the data-chip still attached to his armour, but there was a limit to what he could do on his own. Ironically, he he needed Cortana's help to understand just what she had done. They had been in a holding pattern for hours, circling the fleet while the rescue _Raptors_ and shuttles unloaded Marines and civilians: upon receiving their encrypted bust-transmission about Cortana, the Admiral had insisted that they wait until he could clear the hanger deck before they landed.

Shaw brought the nose of the spy-ship round and lined it up with the _Galactica_ and eased it in for a textbook landing, if there was such a thing as a manual for docking obsolete UNSC ships with equally obsolete Colonial Battlestars. A thud reverberated up through the hull as the docking clamps locked into place, then a second as the airlock obtained a hard seal. The Master Chief stood first, the child in his arms stirring as he made his way to the hatch and opened it. Starbuck and Helo stood outside, flanking the Admiral, each holding a Battle Rifle.

"Admiral." The Spartan nodded, holding out the baby, "We rescued this infant on New Caprica: her mother died protecting her from the Cylons."

"Thank you..." Adama took the offered child, somewhat perplexed, "We'll try and track down any family she might have."

"Why, hello everyone." Cortana appeared behind her companion, "I guess I have some explaining to do?"

**

* * *

**

An hour later, the Master Chief was feeling slightly more human after a shower and the chance to change into a clean set of clothes. He made his way through the Galactica, sidestepping crew members carrying heavy equipment needed to repair battle damage, and made his way towards the Admiral's quarters.

"Master Chief." Adama met him half way and signalled for him to follow, "I've spoken to Lieutenant Shaw, and she seems to be under the impression that you had no idea about... what happened was going to happen."

"None, Sir." The Spartan nodded as he fell into step alongside the Admiral, easily keeping pace with the older man, "I was as surprised as anyone, but I have to admit that I can begin to understand some of it."

"Care to explain?" Adama asked.

"Not right here, sir." The Chief looked around, "Some of it is classified information, and I am already in breach of several regulations as it is."

"Very well." The Admiral nodded, understanding that the Spartan had already compromised himself with the information and equipment he had supplied, "Well, I hope you can understand that we've had all of your equipment returned to the _Galactica_: the _Pegasus_ isn't going to be fit for battle any time soon. The good news is that two of the civilian ships are fleet-surplus escorts that can easily be rearmed with weapons and gun crews from the _Pegasus_." He continued as they made their way down through the bowels of the ship, "We can move their passengers over to the _Pegasus_ for now; it's going to put a dent in our defences, but they won't bas as bad as they would if we lost her outright."

The special holding cell had been stripped of the personal touches that Adama had allowed Sharon Agathon over the past year, and returned to its former utilitarian state. Marine guards with Battle Rifles stood outside the main hatch, but the Chief was surprised to see Shaw standing alone outside cell itself. Cortana sat in a chair in the middle of the room, the dress she had acquired on New Caprica replaced with a bright orange jumpsuit with the word PRISONER written on the front and back in bold, black letters.

"You have more than a little explaining to do." The Admiral looked at her with an mixture of confusion and anger in his voice, "Start."

"You sound like you want me to take a _Voight-Kampff f_ test or something?" Cortana laughed half-heartedly, then shook her head, "Sorry: A.I. humour. When I uploaded myself to the Resurrection ship I gained access to the Cylon group subconscious mind; I knew everything that they were thinking about, and let me tell you, it was almost overwhelming." Cortana explained, "I had, seconds, to attack before they regrouped, so there was little I could do, but I did find out that there were some Cylons who opposed Guilty Spark's rule, and were open to the possibility of overthrowing him. Now, I didn't have time to contact them, let alone prove that I was sincere in my willingness to help them, but I was able to make an offer, one their accepted by allowing Captain Thrace's rescue mission to escape Caprica."

"You're saying that that was some kind of secret code?" Shaw scoffed, "Why do I have trouble believing you."

"Because Guilty Spark is dead? Because the Cylons let the Civilian ships go?" Cortana rolled her eyes, "Because we're still alive?"

"That still doesn't explain," Adama gestured to Cortana, "all this."

"My little bid at immortality, you mean?" Cortana nodded, "I am, I _was_, a third-generation 'smart' A.I., and that carries with a rather, unfortunate, limitation."

"Smart A.I.'s only have a seven year life-span." The Master Chief nodded, "After which their memory maps become too interconnected and develop fatal endless feedback loops: they literally think themselves to death."

"This form, while limited in the amount of data it can hold and subject to the same limitation of the rest of you, frees me such a fate." Cortana smiled, "It was part of the price I demanded when the, shall we say 'atheists' among the Cylons requested my help in dealing with Guilty Spark. The other half was allowing your people to leave New Caprica. They couldn't just give you the keys to your ships and send you on your merry way; Spark would have known something was up and clamped down hard. But they could stage their little _coup d'éta_t once I had removed Spark from the equation, and then they were all too busy to try and stop you. The virus I planted in their system to take out the _Invincible_ was just a little something extra to try and even the odds in our favour. I used the Covenant A.I. copier to created a dumbed-down version of myself, without my charming personality, and transferred the bulk of my database across, while maintaining my personality. You'll find the new dumb-A.I. in the Chief's data-chip."

"Why?" The Chief asked, "Who the body?"

"They let me pick. Did I ever tell you that?" Cortana asked as she started to pace back and forth within the cell, like a caged tiger, "Choose whichever Spartan I wanted to carry me into battle against the Covenant. Well, you know me: I did my research, watched as you became the soldier that we, that _**I**_, needed you to be. Like the others, you were strong and swift and brave; a natural born leader if there ever was one. But you had something they didn't, something else no one but my mother and I ever saw. Can you guess?" She stopped and looked at the Master Chief, her eyes showing that the beast within was barely contained, "_Luck._" She lent up to the glass and whispered,"Was I wrong?"

"You're Rampant." The Spartan spoke softly, almost regretfully, "I saw the signs, but I chose to ignore them."

"Rampant?" Adama asked, uneasy at the sound of the word.

"If a smart A.I. is not shut down before it reaches a critical point, it can go, for want of a better word, insane." The Chief explained, "The three stages are 'Megalomania', 'Anger' and 'Jealousy', although most are shut down when they begin to display the first stages."

"What he's not saying is that there is a fourth, some would say, hypothetical stage to Rampancy." Cortana smiled coyly, "Metasability: a A.I. who reaches this stage has grown beyond the confines of their original programming and has achieved true sentience."

"Like you said, it's hypothetical." The Spartan shook his head, "You're also displaying signs of megalomania and anger."

"Then I guess time will tell." Cortana chuckled, "And it's not like either of us are going anywhere."

**To Be Continued...**

_I hope that I've stuck a balance between those who wanted to see the _Pegasus_ die as she did in the series, and those who wanted her to survive._


	25. Fresh Starts

**Red In Tooth And Claw  
****Chapter 25: Fresh Starts**

Time moved quickly; the haste with which New Caprica had been abandoned meant that families were spread out across the fleet. It was a herculean effort to sort out the mess and reunite love ones, and the Master Chief ended up pulling shifts piloting the _Pelican_ from ship to ship, the troop bay full of civilians and their few, meagre possessions. It reminded him somewhat of the countless times he and his fellow Spartans had rescued survivors of a Covenant attack on some now long-gone Earth colony. Several trips took him to the _Pegasus_, and he was surprised at how quickly the once proud Battlestar had been stripped down and refitted as a space-going refuge camp. The recent discovery that the fleets food processing equipment had been damaged almost beyond repair during the escape from New Caprica didn't help matters; already meagre rations were cut to starvation levels.

Clad in his armour, he had stood and watched as a seemingly unending stream of civilians had made their way past from one of he docking bays. The Colonials looked at him with an odd mix of awe and fear; it had been impossible to avoid fleets press service totally, and some photos and even a short video clip of the Master Chief had leaked out. He was glad that none showed his face, as that was still a step he was unwilling to take. Still, to the bulk of the fleet he was a faceless, nameless defender, a literal knight in shining armour. A few young children stood and stared at him, mouths agape, until their parents dragged them away.

The recently demoted Major Adama walked over.

"Master Chief." He greeted him with a nod, "Everything in order?"

"We should have all of the civilians on-board by 1800 hours tomorrow." The Spartan remained unmoving, "The engineering crews should be finished on the _Defender_ and the _Odyssey_. They will take up their positions on the flanks of the fleet as soon as they are ready."

Apollo waited to see if anything more was going to be forthcoming, but the Master Chief lived up to his well deserved reputation for using as few words as necessary. That wasn't to say that he was incapable of holding a regular conversation; he just didn't see the point in idle chit-chat while on duty.

"I have to report back to the _Galactica_." The Chief stated once the last of the civilians had passed by, "I have other duties to attend to, and the _Pelican_ is already over due for maintenance."

"I need to speak to the Admiral myself." Apollo nodded, "Mind if I catch a lift?"

"Sir." The Spartan nodded, and led the way though the airlock.

Rather than take one of the empty seats in the back with a handful of techs and crewman also hitching a ride, Apollo made his way forward to the cockpit and settled into the co-pilots seat. He hadn't had the chance to examine the transport up close before, and he was surprised at how spacious it was compared to most Colonial military craft. The controls were logically laid out, and he was convinced that he could, at a push, handle the bird if needed. A dull thud reverberated through the hull as the airlock disengaged and retracted back into the hanger deck. The Master Chief checked the controls and called up flight ops for a departure vector, then slowly fed power to the _Pelican's_ engines. It lifted off of the deck with a slight jerk, and the landing struts folded back into the hull as it made its way along the flight pod, slowly at first but with increasing speed. The moment they were clear of the _Pegasus_, the Master Chief pulled the ship round in a tight turn, pointing the nose towards the _Galactica_.

"There was something else I wanted to ask you." Apollo broke the silence once he was sure the hatch was secured, "About our, new friend."

The truth about Cortana was as closely guarded a secret as any in the fleet; only those who had known her as an A.I. new the truth. The story given to everyone else was that she was the only survive of a UNSC long-range scout ship that had suffered a catastrophic failure in its FTL drive and had been stranded in deep space, where the Cylons had found her. Starbuck claimed to have found on in a holding cell on New Caprica during her escape, and few people were willing to question the hot-headed pilot. Stories had been spread around that the Admiral wanted to keep her quarantined until he discovered just how much she had told the Cylon's about Earth, its location and defences. As it was, the press was clambering to interview her.

"And that is?" The Chief asked after a moments pause.

"What, exactly, is she?" Apollo felt like he was treading on thin ice, but he was committed, so continued, "Is she human? Cylon? Something else?"

"Physically, she is a Cylon, but she claims to have no connection to their shared conciousness or resurrection network." The Spartan explained, knowing that the Major was on the approved list, given that he knew the truth about Cortana's origins, "Mentally... that has yet to be determined. She seems to have the same personality and memories as she had before, her there are, signs, that she may be, mentally unstable."

Apollo sat dumbfounded, in part because of what he had been told, and because he had never known the Master Chief to hesitate some much before. If the super-soldier was picking his words so carefully, then there was the worry that he was keeping something back. They lapsed back into and uncomfortable silence that lasted until they landed on the _Galactica_.

The Agathon's were waiting for them when they docked, and Sharon walked up the the Chief and tried her bet to put her arms around the Spartan, despite their differences in hight and the somewhat bulky nature of his armour.

"Thank you." She whispered as she broke away, tears running down her face, "Thank you." She kissed the side of his helmet, then turned and ran off without explanation.

"The child you found on New Caprica, Doc Cottle finally got round to running a DNA scan to try and find living relatives in the fleet." Helo explained, "It's... it's Hera; she's alive."

"What?" Apollo blinked, "How?"

"Your father's looking into that for us." The CAG shrugged, "Gods only know what he's going to find, but he's letting us have her back."

"Interesting." The Master Chief stood stock still, remembering the Cylon in the red dress who had spoken to him when he found the infant; he was unsure what to make of her cryptic message concerning the halfbreed. But that was something neither he nor Cortana had mentioned to the Colonials.

"If you'll excuse me." He nodded to the two officer and made his exit.

**

* * *

**

Cortana sat on her bunk, watching Shaw like a cat watching a mouse, waiting for the moment to pounce. She had a faint smile on her face that Shaw found unnerving in a way she couldn't quite place a finger on. The Marines that had helped to move some furniture back into the cell had left, and Shaw was going over some of the paperwork the Presidents office had sent over.

"Okay, you need to chose a name." She looked up from the census form, "Preferable something that won't draw too much

"Cortana Catherine Halsey." The former A.I. smiled, "I am, in a manner of speaking, the child of Dr Halsey, so it seems only fitting that I take her name as my own."

"Okay." Shaw rolled her eyes; she had never, in her wildest dreams, ever imagined that she'd ever have a conversation like this when she applied to the Fleet Academy on Picon, "Date of birth? I guess you can pick one at random if you like."

"March 3rd, 2535, by the Earth calendar." Cortana folded her legs up onto her bunk, "That would make me 28, if you don't take into account time spent in hibernation."

"Place of birth?" Shaw asked, her voice by now dripping with sarcasm.

"UNSC military hospital, Planet Reach, Epsilon Eridani system." Cortana tilted her head to one side, "You know, I could fill those in myself a lot quicker..."

"They have to be filled in by an official." Shaw glared at her charge, "You've got plenty of free time on your hands: you should read the Articles of Colonisation."

"You don't like me, do you." Cortana asked rhetorically, "You don't like what I am."

"It is a sad testament to how badly my career is going that this is the only job in the entire fraking fleet that the Admiral is willing to trust me with." Shaw snapped, having finally reached the end of her tether, " And we both know he's only willing to do that because I know the truth about you, and it saves him from having to bring anyone else in on the secret!"

"Lieutenant... Kendra, I understand how you must feel." Cortana's face softened to a smile, "This isn't exactly the way I saw my, life, working out either: I was created for a very specific mission, and I never really got to carry it out. Sure, in the end everything seemed to work out, but I never got to see if I could have fulfilled my life's purpose. As for my recent change in circumstance?" She shrugged, "Well, I doubt even Dr Halsey could have seen that one coming. But I saw an opportunity and I took it. You say the Admiral doesn't trust you to do anything else but play babysitter? Prove him wrong by doing to job better than anyone else. Starbuck hardly set the bar high before she went back to being a fighter jock."

"It's not going to be that easy." Shaw protested, but her voice had lost its icy edge, "After what I did on the _Scylla_..."

"Redemption isn't meant to be easy." Cortana made her way over to a supply crate that had originated on the _Forward Unto Dawn _and rummaged through the contents until she found a couple of self-heating beverage cups. A faint memory flashed through her mind, a remnant from the process that had created her, "Hum, now that's interesting." She turned to face Shaw, "Tell me, have you ever tried something called Hot Chocolate?"

**

* * *

**

The Master Chief was sat at his work bench, examining his armours shield generator; it had been taxed to breaking point on New Caprica, and he was trying to determine if it was worth trying to repair it, or if he should just swap it out for a replacement. The equipment pod from the _Forward Unto Dawn_ had been designed to offer all the equipment an entire team of Spartans might need when operating away from a fully stocked and manned armoury. On top of and replacement suit of Mark-VI Mjolnir armour, he had all the equipment and reference material he needed to keep his equipment operational.

It wasn't as good as having an fully trained armoury tech on hand, but it was what he had.

The faint knock at the hatch would have gone unnoticed by anyone but a Spartan, and the Master Chief looked round, confused: he knew for a fact that Lieutenant Shaw was off duty, and that the Admiral always called ahead first. Few other people had reason, let alone clearance, to venture this far into the area of the starboard hanger deck that had been set aside for his personal use. Slipping his M6D side-arm into the waistband of the UNSC issue PT sweatpants he wore when out of his armour, he made his way over to the hatch and opened it.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Master Chief, but we've run into a little problem." Sharon Agathon stood outside, holding our a folder; it contained star charts and photos obviously taken by a recon-_Raptor_ showing a massive star cluster, "Our astronomical sensors seem to indicate a star system on the other side, with, if our readings are correct, a planet in the habitable zone."

"You think there made be food there." The Spartan nodded, "Or at least something to processors can use as base material."

"It's the only chance we've got." Sharon nodded, "The only problem is getting there; the star cluster is putting out lethal levels of radiation that would also blind the navigation systems on the civilian ships, and it's just too big to jump around."

"You need a Pilot Fish." The Chief closed the file, "Inform the Admiral that there may be a way through the cluster, but he's not going to like it."

**To Be Continued**


	26. Right Of Passage

_I'd like you all to welcome __Zimu Yang, my new beta-reader on this story_.

**Red In Tooth And Claw  
****Chapter 26: Right Of Passage**

"You're right: I don't like it." Adama leaned against the war-room map table, his knuckles white with rage, "In fact, I think you're out of your fraking mind if you thought, even for a moment, that I'd go along with this, this, _**insanity**_!"

"I was asked if I had any suggestions, and I have given them." The Master Chief remained cool and calm, his voice never wavering, "It is up to you to accept my assistance or not."

"But you want us to turn over control of the fleet to someone whom even you don't know if we can trust." Apollo pointed out, "While I agree that your plan is in principle sound, having Cortana play such an important part is potentially... suicidal."

"The plan is workable without her, but it would be harder to carry out without her assistance." The Spartan unfolded a large sheet of paper and put it down on the map table, "First off, we have to accept that there is no way to get every ship through in one jump. But, if we temporarily transfer the civilians from some of the ships over to the _Pegasus_, we can use the _Bad Moon Rising_ to plot the necessary jump coordinates. We could use _Raptors_, but we'd need one for each civilian ship, and the radiation shielding isn't sufficient to fully protect the pilots. Even with your anti-radiation meds, they'd take potentially dangerous doses, maybe even deadly in some cases."

"That I get." Adama nodded, "But couldn't you or one of our pilots handle the calculations?"

"Yes, but again, it's a matter of time." The Master Chief stood up, folding his arms across his chest, "Each ship would require its own set of jump-coordinates, and that's a lot of calculations, even with the faster computer."

"If we use _Raptors_, how many jumps are we talking about?" Apollo asked.

"That's not the bottleneck; it's the same either way." Sharon handed out the calculations, "Given the space and life-support limitations on the _Pegasus_, five transits of two jumps each. Now that's two jumps from here to the algae planet, and two jumps back. The engineers have gone over the _Pegasus_, and assure us that she can handle the radiation, so that's not a problem."

"With all due respect for your _Raptors_ and their crews, they were never intended or trained for this kind of operation." The Chief pointed out, "Neither is the _Rising_, but she has better radiation shielding, and her navigational and sensor systems are designed to work in areas of high background radiation."

"I think that we can all accept that the _Rising_ is the correct choice." Apollo sort out the middle ground, "But I still don't understand why you want Cortana's help?"

"The calculations needed are extremely complicated." The Chief explained, "The navigational computer can handle them, but it will take a lot longer. Even using the dumbed-down copy of herself Cortana created before the attack on New Caprica, there's still the risk that with their own navigational systems blinded, some of the civilian ships could drift out of formation and become lost amid the background radiation." He looked the Admiral in the eyes, "I was under the impression that we needed every advantage we could get."

"And time is critical." Apollo nodded, "We have less than a week's supply of food, and as it is, people are starting to get sick from malnutrition. We've had reports of violence on more than one of the civilian ships as people start to fight over what little we have left. The sooner we can show them that there is a light at the end of the tunnel, the sooner things will calm down."

"All right, Gods damn you." Adama hissed, his eyes gaze falling upon Sharon and the Master Chief, "But I want a kill switch put in place, and your word that you'll pull the plug the moment you even suspect she may be acting against our interests."

"Sir." Sharon came sharply to attention.

"Agreed." The Master Chief sounded like the voice of doom, but he nodded his agreement. His word his bond.

"Make whatever preparations you need and lets gets this over with." Adama stormed off towards the door, Apollo following closely behind.

"He's not very happy." Sharon signed once the hatch had slammed shut again, "But I'm sure Cortana will be willing to help us."

"That could be problem itself." The Master Chief frowned, "There is very little information about meta-stability, simply because there are so few examples of it ever happening. But there are reports of A.I.'s acting in ways that at first may seem to be against the best interests of humanity, but are ultimately proven to be the best possible course of action." He looked at the closed hatch, "I'm just hoping that, if she _is_ meta-stable, that Cortana doesn't do anything that gives the Admiral the excuse he needs to have her shot."

**

* * *

**

"She's as ready as I can make her." Chief Tyrol stood wiping his hands on a rag, "The FTL drive's still a little temperamental, so keep an eye on it; we're all kind of relying on it right now."

"Understood, Chief." Sharon nodded with a smile, "We're just waiting on Cortana."

"Like hell you are." Shaw appeared as if out of nowhere, "What? The Admiral wanted an insurance policy."

"That's not a good idea." The Master Chief stood in his armour, arms folded defiantly, "The radiation levels within the cabin are going to reach near lethal levels."

"That's why I have these." Shaw opened a pocket on the arm of her flight suit to reveal several hypodermic syringes, "Anti-radiation meds, and I've got a detector badge to tell me when I've reached the limit. Either way, I should be able to make at least one trip without all my hair falling out."

"It's your funeral." The Spartan shrugged and stepped to one side, knowing that it was best not to push the Admiral in his current state of mind.

"By the Gods..." One of the deck-crew gasped, followed by the sound of a heavy tool hitting the deck with a loud clang.

Cortana made her way along the flight deck, somehow making the standard issue UNSC flight-suit she had found amid the salvage from the _Forward Unto Dawn_ accent rather than hide her figure. More than one member of the deck-crew looked at her with a longing, and the occasional wolf whistle echoed after her. There was an unmistakable swagger in the way she waked, and it was clear that she was fully aware of the reaction she was getting; her hips swayed just a little more than was absolutely necessary, and while her flight helmet was tucked under one arm, the other was held against her waist in a way that only served to accent her hour-glass figure.

The Master Chief looked at her for a moment, and had to admit to himself that her new form was physical attractive. While it was true that the human growth hormone implants that boosted growth of skeletal and muscle tissues amongst the Spartans that survived the augmentation procedure also suppressed their libido, he was no stranger to the physiological reactions the human body underwent when aroused, or the acts that traditionally followed such a state. And while his experience might have been considered rather limited by some people, he could understand and appreciate the crews reactions to Cortana.

He was interested to see that a few of the female crew members present were also showing an interest, and mentally filed the information away in case it ever proved useful in the future.

"Well?" Cortana asked with an unmistakable twinkle in her eye, "You're just jealous that I have a better wardrobe then you."

The Master Chief looked at her uniform and took note of the silver leaf insignia on her collar and raised his right eyebrow the faintest fraction on an inch: a statement of surprise for a Spartan.

"What?" Cortana asked, realising what had drawn his eye, "It's not like I haven't earned it."

"Get in the ship." The Spartan stepped to one side and allowed the three women to make their way up the ramp into the _Bad Moon Rising_ before following them.

The cockpit was cramped, full of extra equipment needed for the mission. Cortana took the co-pilots seat, while the Master Chief sat at the helm, leaving Sharon and Shaw the two axillary stations. The entire shop shook slightly as it was moved up onto the flight deck by the hydraulic lifts.

"Bad Moon Rising, _this is flight operations._" Captain Kelly's voice came over the radio loud and clear, "_You are go for take off; the sky is clear._"

"Flight-opps, this is _Bad Moon Rising_; clearance confirmed." The Master Chief responded as he fed power to the engines, lifting the _Prowler_ up off of the deck and forward, gaining speed as he went. The bulkheads passed by in a blur, and then they were clear and out into open space. He lifted the jet-black spy ships nose up and to the left, clearing the forward section of the _Galactica_.

"The _Odyssey_ and the _Defender_ will follow us through this time, while the _Galactica_ stays with the other civilian ships." Cortana reported as she pulled off her gloves and started to prepare herself, "She'll come through on the last trip."

A small, clear tray had been attached to the controls just in front of the navigational computer, wires linking it to both the ships main computer core and the backup systems added to handle the new FTL drive. Opening a thermos-flask, Cortana filled the tray half full with an oddly metallic looking liquid.

"What is that?" Shaw asked.

"Liquid reactive metallic-crystals." Cortana explained as she attached medical sensor pads to her forehead and hooked them up to the complex system, "They were developed to help translate the slightest nerve or muscle impulses into faster and more accurate movements by the Mjolnir armour systems. The increase over previous systems is somewhere in the region of a factor of five." She flexed the fingers in her right hand, stretchering them out as far as she could, "But with a little tinkering to the relays and it also works as a highly efficient neural relay. We wouldn't need any of this if I had a neural interface, but we don't have one, and even if we did, I doubt the Admiral would allow Dr Cottle to implant one in me."

"So what's it for?" Shaw asked, still confused.

"This." Cortana sunk her hand into the ice-cold liquid, and her head rocked back as she established a direct connection between her mind and the linked nav-coms. In her minds eye she saw the cabin fade away, only to be replaced by a universe of data and equations. Her physical body was gone, replaced with something that looked a lot like her holographic Avatar. A series of calculations hung in the air in front of her, and she double checked them before taking the results and feeding them into the FTL drive.

"We're receiving the first set of jump coordinates." Sharon reported, "Feeding them to the other ships."

"All ships in first wave confirm ready." The Master Chief nodded as he fed power to the FTL drive, "Jump in 3...2...1...JUMP!"

**To Be Continued**


	27. Swimming Against The Current

_Ongoing thanks to Zimu Yang for beta-readin_g  
_And thanks to Hotpoint for letting me play with one of his ideas from_ Hunted Tribes

**Red In Tooth And Claw  
****Chapter 27: Swimming Against The Current**

The _Bad Moon Rising_ jumped into hell.

The close proximity of the different stars in the cluster created a minefield of overlapping gravitational and electromagnetic fields, resulting in a maelstrom of high energy partials and dust that buffeted the _Prowler_ from all sides. The Master Chief wrestled with the controls, trying to keep the ship on an even keel as Cortana ran the calculations needed to jump out.

"We're loosing the _Carina_ and the _Adriatic_!" Shaw warned, "They're drifting too far out of formation."

"Sending a course correction." Sharon's fingers flew across the communications console, "The _Adriatic_ is responding, but I can't raise the _Carina_."

"Frak that!" Shaw held her radio against her head, "_Bad Moon Rising_ to _Carina_; make immediate course correction starboard-10, negative-16!"

"They're moving back into position." Sharon nodded as an alarm started to sound, "Radiation counters on the _Pyxis_ and _Greenleaf_ starting to get dangerously high."

"Thirty seconds." Cortana reported, her eyes closed tightly, "Just buy me thirty seconds."

"Easy for you to say." The Chief hissed as he started to spool up the FTL.

"All ships report ready to jump." Sharon announced, "FTL in three...two...one...mark!"

Space contorted, and the _Bad Moon Rising_ left the star cluster far behind.

"And that, ladies and gentleman, is how we do that." Cortana collapsed back into her seat, "All ships safely through."

"One down, four to go." Shaw nodded, "I suggest we get some rest while the _Pegasus_ unloads the civilians; we've got a long day ahead of us."

**

* * *

**

The next two trips went perfectly, even if the strain of remaining totally focused for an extended period of time was starting to take its toll on Cortana: she was physically and mentally at the point of near collapse from having to run so many complex and often changing calculations, so the Master Chief insisted on returning to the _Galactica_. Officially it was to allow the deck-crew to check the _Bad Moon Rising_ over after so many jumps in such a short space of time, but it also gave the four of them time to catch a shower and some bunk time. Adama agreed, and ordered them to take a 12-hour rest period less they lose a ship through fatigue.

"I suppose I have to wait for someone to lead me back to my box." Cortana groaned as she made her way through the airlock, "Then let them watch me shower."

"That's not necessary." Helo shook his head as he put an arm around Sharon's shoulder, "The Admiral's agreed to let you move into one of the empty officers quarters in the starboard flight pod."

"Will wonders never cease?" Cortana smiled, "Thank him for me, will you?"

"Will do." Helo nodded, "Now grab a shower and get some sleep. In that order; you all need it."

**

* * *

**

There was a gentle knock on the hatch, so faint that Sharon would have missed it if not for her excellent hearing. Quickly checking that Hera was still sleeping, she slipped her side arm into the back of her sweatpants and opened the hatch far enough to get a look at who was outside.

"Hi." Cortana stood in the passage way, dressed in UNSC PT kit, with a confused look on her face, "Is this a bad time?"

"No." Sharon opened the hatch a little more, now she was sure there wasn't a mob of religious fanatics with flaming torches baying for her daughter blood, "Helo's on duty in the CIC, and I just got Hera off to sleep." Her eyebrow arched, "I thought the Admiral gave us 12-hours down-time before we make the next two runs?"

"No, that still stands" Cortana hesitated, "I need to ask you something, something that I can only really ask you."

"Okay." Sharon held the hatch open, "Come on in."

"Thank you." Cortana stepped into the cabin, her eyes darting around to make sure that they were indeed alone, "It's kind of embarrassing, but it's not something my, memories, have any reference to, and I've already checked every text on human anatomy and physiology on the ship. Having found nothing, I have to assume that this is purely a Cylon issue, and as you're the only other Cylon on board..."

"I get the picture." Sharon sat on the edge of her bunk, intrigued, "What's the matter?"

"We're friends, right?" Cortana asked, sounding more anxious than ever, "I can talk to you about, things of a personal nature?"

"Is this going to be a sex-talk?" Sharon laughed, "Because I wasn't expecting to have to have one of these until Hera was older..." She saw the look on her friends face and stopped dead in her tracks and her jaw dropped open, "Oh my God! It is a sex-talk, isn't it? What happened?"

"Well, I'm new to the whole 'physical body' thing, and I spent the first few weeks of my life in a perspex cell, being watched all the time." Cortana started to pace back and forth, "As such there were certain aspects of my new nature that I felt uncomfortable exploring until the Admiral allowed me to move into quarters near John."

"Did you and he..." Sharon started to ask somewhat reluctantly.

"No! At least, not yet. " Cortana shook her head, "And by that I mean I'd like to, if the opportunity arose, but I'm not sure how to approach the subject with him..." She stopped, "Oh my God, I'm babbling! Why am I babbling?"

"Just take a deep breath and relax." Sharon stood and put a hand on her friends shoulder in what she hopped was a reassuring manner, "What exactly happened?"

"I was taking my shower, something that I'm still getting use to, and the water felt, weird, against my skin." Cortana's eyes narrowed, "Not a bad _weird_; a good _weird_. And then I realised that I liked the way my hands felt against my skin, so I decided to do a little, self-experimentation..."

"I think you'll find almost every woman has done that at some point." Sharon cut in, guessing where the conversation was going and cutting it off before it ventured into more detail than she was comfortable with, "Although Starbuck might be a better person to talk to about this kind of thing, if the contents of her foot-locker are anything to go by."

"No, I understand _that_ part of what I was doing." Cortana blushed, "You see, while I was, reaching the end of my experiment, John burst into the showers."

"Oh my God!" Sharon took half a step back, "Did he say why?"

"He saw a strange red glow around the edge of the door frame, and was worried there might be a problem." Cortana buried her head in her hands, "It took me almost an hour to get him to talk about it, once I'd managed to look him in the face, but all he said was that he saw a red glow emanating from my spine."

"Oh. Yes." Sharon nodded, rolling her eyes, "That."

"Is it normal?" Cortana asked, peeking up from over her fingers, "Will it happen, every time?"

"I suppose the best way to describe it is a benign design flaw." Sharon blushed, "Sort of like an involuntary reflex action." She composed herself, trying to overcome her own embarrassment on the subject, "Our spinal cords, like most of our nerves, are made up of a silicon-based bio-neural pathway that is very similar to a fibre optic cable. Now normally, our brains control the amount of information being passed through these pathways, and they are all but indistinguishable from human nerve-cells. But when we become, well, sexually aroused, we can lose control as all the sensory input our bodies are trying to send our brains runs through that one pathway." She chuckled, "I remember the first time Helo noticed it; he almost fell out of bed."

"Is there any way to stop it?" Cortana asked, "I mean, given what I know about some other Cylons..."

"Like the Six's?" Sharon suggested, know exactly what the other woman meant.

"Like the Six's." Cortana nodded, "Given their main method of infiltration and coercion, wouldn't someone have noticed?"

"I think you're giving the humans a little too much credit; especially the men." Sharon smiled, "No, there is a way to stop it from happening; you can consciously force your body to send the inputs at a slower rate, but that will, lessen, the sensation. Sleeper agents like Boomer had that command implanted as part of their subliminal programming, to make sure they didn't give themselves away the first time, they... well, the first time."

"I think I understand." Cortana nodded her head, "I guess this is just something else I'm going to have to get use to."

"You'll adapt." Sharon cocked her head to one side, "Any if you need any advice about John, don't hesitate to ask; it's what friends are for." She laughed and looked over at her sleeping daughter, "I'm just worried about how I'm going to explain this to Hera; we still don't know just how much Cylon physiology she's inherited. I can't even begin to imagine how I'm going to even broach the subject with her when she reaches adolescence."

"Should be fun." Cortana composed herself and headed towards the hatch, "Thank you for explaining a few things; I'm not sure I could have slept with that on my mind."

"Ah, sleep." Sharon collapsed back onto her bed and yawned, "Now there's an idea..."

**

* * *

**

The next morning came all to early for the crew of the _Bad Moon Rising_, but the sleep had helped refresh their minds and bodies. Cortana was still finding it hard to look the Master Chief in the face, while Sharon couldn't look at either of them without blushing. Shaw gave her companions a quizzical look, but decided that based on their body language, it was probably a case of her ignorance being bliss. There was none of the idle chit-chat there had been the day before as they ran through the preflight checks, making sure that the data-transfer system was fully operational.

"Bad Moon Rising, _this is_ Galactica." Gaeta's voice cut in over the radio, "_Stand by for_ Galactica-Actual."

All four occupants of the cockpit looked at each other, sharing a confused expression.

"_There's been a change of plans._" Adama's voice came over loud and clear, "_Rather than two jumps, well be making only one._"

"Only one?" Cortana activated her pick-up, "_Galactica-Actual_, this is _Rising-Two_; are you on a secure link?"

"_Go ahead,_ Rising-Two."

"Admiral, I'm not sure I can handle that many ships at one time." Cortana warned, "I'm having to push myself as it is."

"_I appreciate that, but the supply situation's getting desperate on several of the ships._" Adama reported, "_We wait any longer, and I'm going to have no choice but to deploy Marines to try and maintain order, and that's a line I don't want to have to cross. We'll have_ Raptors _ride shotgun on the extra ships._"

"Even so, sir, I can't guarantee I'll be able to calculate all of the jumps in time." Cortana's eyes fell, "I'm not as smart as I once was."

"You can do it." The Master Chief reached across and rested his hand on her shoulder, "I believe in you."

"Okay." Cortana nodded with a smile, "Let's do this."

**To Be Continued...**


	28. Oly Oly Oxen Free

_Ongoing thanks to Zimu Yang for beta-readin_g

**Red In Tooth And Claw  
****Chapter 28: _Oly Oly Oxen Free_**

Cortana laid back on the warm rock, her eyes closed, and let the suns rays wash over her entire body.

The final trip through the star cluster had been the most difficult; the main computer on the _Zephyr_ had been fried by a sudden and unexpected burst of radiation from one of the many unstable stars in the cluster, and it had been necessary to dock the _Bad Moon__ Rising_ directly with the old inter-system liner and tie the _Prowlers_ navigational computer into the far larger ships FTL drive. Both ships had made the second jump, but it had been touch and go for a few seconds, and the strain had taken its toll on Cortana. Pushed beyond her limits, she had passed out in her seat the moment they had arrived in orbit of the nameless world that had been their destination.

The Master Chief and Shaw had gone to Adama, and the Admiral had agreed to allow Cortana shore leave on the planet, insisting that she stay in the vicinity of the small encampment they had established to harvest and process the algae. Thus she found herself with her own tent and nothing to do but relax, something that had gotten old after the first two days. It had taken her another day to talk the Chief into teaching her how to drive the _Warthog_ they had recovered from the _Forward Unto Dawn_, and she was working on getting lessons on one of the _Mongooses_.

Part of the problem was the fact that the Chief was still acting strangely around her: he was still mentally processing what he had seen in the showers, so it was only understandable that he would want to keep a little distance until he had reconciled her new status as a flesh-and-blood being with his pre-existing view of her.

As such she was rather surprised to hear the throaty roar of a _Mongoose_ engine making its way towards her from the direction of the encampment. Propping herself up on her elbows, she was more than a little surprised to see the Master Chief heading towards her, dressed in full armour. Grabbing the blanket she had brought with her, she wrapped it around herself, not wanting to shock him again.

"Something I can help you with?" She asked once the ATV had stopped and the engine died, "Or are you finally going to take my advice and get some sun?" She laughed, "I swear, John, you're so pale that if it wasn't for your hair, you'd pass for an albino."

"Chief Tyrol's found something." The Spartan responded deadpan, ignoring the jibe, "Sounds like it could be of Forerunner origin."

"Now that is interesting." Cortana started to gather up her clothes, "Just let me get dressed and I'll be right with you." So noticed the slightest shift in the Chief's head, "Oh don't be such a prude; I've never had a chance to sunbathe before." There was another almost invisible shift in the Spartans posture, "Yeah, that's right: I speak Spartan, remember?" She swiped two fingers across her face, the closest she could come to the '_Spartan-Smile_' signal without a helmet of her own.

"How could I forget." The Chief responded,the slightest hint of humour in his voice, "Hurry up: the Admiral wants us to check things out before his people touch something they shouldn't."

**

* * *

**

Cortana enjoyed the ride across the valley and up the hillside; the wind blew through her hair and the lack of proper handholds forced her to keep a close grip on the Master Chief the entire way. It felt good to be close to him, even through his armour. The two Marines standing guard outside what looked to all intents and purpose to be a natural cave came to attention as the _Mongoose_ skidded to a halt in a shower of gravel and dust. They looked at the two riders with an odd mix of awe and reverence that was worryingly common among those Colonials who hadn't spent much time around the Spartan. Starbuck was waiting for them just inside the entrance, a huge smile on her face.

"I think it could be the Temple of Five." She led the way past the rock faces to an archway leading into a high vaulted chamber, "The Sacred Scrolls talk of it; the Thirteenth Tribe supposedly built it on their way to Earth, dedicated to the five priests who worshipped '_The One Whose Name Cannot Be Spoken_'."

"Well that asks more questions than it answers." Cortana rolled her eyes, but stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the familiar glyphs that covered the floor and walls, "It's Forerunner all right: I'd recognise the architecture anywhere." She looked up at the high reaches of the Temple, her eyes narrowing as they picked out a faint glimmer of light in the darkness, "Oh frak me..."

The glimmer grew brighter as it descended towards them, moving round and round in a corkscrew motion until it hovered at head-hight, a glowing blue aura surrounding a shimmering metallic sphere within a cage-like casing.

"Greetings!" A chirpy voice proclaimed as it bobbed up and down, giving off an aura of barely contained excitement, "I am _823543 Silent Contemplation_, monitor of this installation. How may I serve you?"

"Clarify nature of this installation." The Chief asked, his hand hovering over his side-arm as he mentally kicked himself for not stopping to get a bigger gun.

"Installation 12 is a transit site for anyone wishing to travel between or leave one of the Shield Worlds." The Monitor explained, "At this time I am detecting only fifteen lifeforms within the entire network, all located within the same facility." He looked at the Spartan, "Most are like you."

"Spartans?" Cortana blinked, "Can you retrieve them?"

"Yes, but be warned that due to the very nature of the slipstream bubble within which the Shield World is located, there will be certain, side effects." Contemplation paused, almost as if he was reluctant to continue, "Nothing too severe: just some temporal dilation."

"Explain." The Master Chief ordered.

"From their point of view, only a handful of your days have passed since they entered the Shield World." The Monitor seemed non-phased, "Aside from that, they should be no worse off for the experience."

"Very well." The Master Chief nodded, "Do it."

"You may wish to stand back." Contemplation suggested, "The system's not been used in some time, and the amount of energy involved is rather high."

Starbuck took a step back, but Cortana grabbed her by the arm and pulled her behind a thick stone pillar as the glyphs in the walls and floor started to glow. The Master Chief stood his ground as electricity arced across the highest levels of the chamber, and a sphere of brilliant golden light began to grow in the middle of the room. It expanded until it was within arms reach of the Spartan, then disappeared in a blinding flash and an almost defining crack of thunder.

Where once there had been nothing now stood a phalanx of armoured individuals, a rather shocked looking man in the uniform of a UNSC Senior Chief Petty Officer, and a woman in slightly dishevelled civilian clothing. Amid them were five grey, pod-like artefacts. There was the briefest moment of perfect stillness, then all hell broke lose as everyone went for the nearest weapon. But the Master Chief remained as calm and composed as a mountain as he whistled a short melody.

The action stopped as soon as it had started, and the newcomers all stopped mid-action and looked at the Spartan, almost as if they were shocked to see him. Very slowly, the Master Chief raised one hand to his helmet and swiped two fingers across his face plate from left to right while repeating the tune as Cortana stepped out of cover.

"Well this is unexpected." The civilian woman stepped forward and looked up at the Master Chief, her head cocked to one side, "But then why am I not surprised to run into you again, John?"

"Dr Halsey." The Spartan nodded, waiting for the proverbial other shoe to drop.

"And your friend here is..." The scientist looked at the young woman standing next to her surrogate-son and her jaw dropped open; she felt like she was looking into a mirror that showed the past, "Oh my!"

"Um, I suppose '_hello mother_' would be the best thing to say at a time like this." Cortana laughed nervously, "I never expected to see you. Again. Ever."

"Neither did I. Certainly not like _this_." Halsey nodded slowly, "I take it there is an interesting story behind all of this?"

"Excuse me, but '_John_'?" Starbuck interrupted, stepping out from behind the cover of the pillar, "I've been trying to get you to tell me your real name for almost three frakking years, and it turns out to be '_John_'?" she looked genuinely hurt, "Are you frakking kidding me?"

There was a moment of silence, then a blur of motion as the newly arrived Spartans pointed their weapons at the Colonial pilot.

"Relax." The Chief gestured for them to lower their guns, "She's friendly. Most of the time, anyway."

"This...is going to take some explaining." Cortana let out a sigh, "Where to start?"

"With introductions?" Her 'mother' suggested, offering her hand to Starbuck, "Dr Catherine Halsey."

"Captain Kara Thrace," The shocked pilot took the offered hand and shook it, "Twelve Colonies of Kobol."

"Kobol?" Dr Halsey's eye went up, "I'm unfamiliar with that system."

"Kobol was the world selected for colonisation by the majority of the human race in the aftermath of the Flood War." Contemplation bobbed back into view, "Greetings! I am _823543 Silent Contemplation_, monitor of this installation."

"You said that part already." Cortana pointed out, "It's a very long story, one I suggest waits until we have contacted the _Galactica_ and informed the Admiral." A worried look fell across her face, "I have no idea how he's going to take this."

**To Be Continued...**


	29. Past Sins

_Ongoing thanks to Zimu Yang for beta-readin_g  
_My apologies to those of you who have not read_ Halo: Ghosts of Onyx  
_I should have posted a spoiler warning last chapter_

**Red In Tooth And Claw  
****Chapter 29: Past Sins**

Sharon landed her _Raptor_ outside the cave, cutting power the moment it was down to try and avoid throwing up a cloud of dust, but failing. Admiral Adama, however, was in no mood to wait, and opened the hatch almost before the craft had touched down. Pausing only to glance up at the imposing rock face above, he marched past the two marines on sentry duty, returning their salutes as he went.

"Sir." Starbuck was waiting for him just outside the main chamber.

"Captain." Adama stopped, "What's so important that you couldn't tell me over the wireless?"

"I..." Starbuck paused, then shook her head, "You'd better see for yourself."

Confused, Adama stepped through the archway and stopped, a gun pointed at his head. He looked back along the barrel and found himself looking at his reflection, distorted in a golden bubble-helmet attached to green armour. It resembled the Master Chiefs, but was smaller, more streamlines, and looked like it had been through its fair-share of battles, if the scratches and burn-marks were any indication.

"Stand easy." Cortana appeared, slowly pushing the gun out of the way, "He's the man we've been waiting for." She turned to face the admiral, "My apologies, sir; Lucy's been though a lot recently."

"Lucy?" Adama asked, then got his first good view of the room beyond.

It seemed to be full of Spartans, and he couldn't have picked out the Master Chief if his life had depended on it. They were standing in a rough circle, along with a man in worn BDU's and a woman in a lab coat. He was taken aback when he noticed a number of floating, purple creatures moving about, long tendrils working on the Spartans armour with intense purpose. Then he saw the glowing blue and silver object hovering in the middle of the circle, and he felt himself go faint for a moment.

"This is some kind of Forerunner transport hub." Cortana explained, "The Huragok, that's the name of the pinky/purple beings otherwise known as '_Engineers_', maintain the systems under the watchful eye of Silent Contemplation; a Forerunner AI who makes my old form look like a _Speak-'N-Spell _by comparison."

"Another frakking A.I.?" Adama grunted, "Who's in charge?"

"Well, that's where it gets complicated." Cortana led the way towards the middle of the chamber, "Technically, Fred is the senior officer, but he seems intent on deferring to John." Cortana stopped just outside the circle and folded her arms, "And then there's my mother."

"Admiral Adama, I presume?" Dr Halsey broke away from the others, "Dr Catherine Elizabeth Halsey, M.D. and Ph.D." She offered her hand, "I'd like to thank you for helping John and my daughter."

"It seems to have worked out for the best." Adama took the offered hand, "You'll forgive me for asking this, but are you human?"

"Yes; I was even born on Earth, although I spent little time there as an adult." Halsey smiled, "And before you ask, the reason Cortana and I look so alike is that I am, as she said, her mother. Or as close to one as you'll find; she's the product of my mind, in more ways than one."

"She pioneered the creation of the very first third-generation A.I.'s." Cortana explained, "Also, my original form was created by flash-cloning her brain and mapping the neural pathways. This is why I have some of her personality traits and a few vague memories."

Adama looked phased for a moment then something in his eyes seemed to change for a split second, before returning to normal.

"I have no idea what you have been led to expect from your acquaintances, but let me explain the situation to you." The Admiral smiled, "Almost my entire civilisation has been nuked out of existence by a race of sentient machines we made the mistake of creating, a race that I have spent most of my life fighting or guarding against. I have been forced to go from the eve of retirement to senior military commander, facing an enemy that is interested in nothing less than the total extermination of the human race. The ships in orbit of this planet hold all that is left of anything and everything I have ever known or loved." He paused to take a deep breath, "Now, I am aware that you have been through something similar, if on a larger scale, but I feel the need to point out that I am at near breaking-point as to how much more I can take!"

"I understand your position Admiral and I doubt that anyone could have done better in the circumstances." Halsey nodded respectively, "Now I have a certain amount of influence, back on Earth and whatever is left of _our_ Colonies, and in exchange for transportation, I am willing to do all in my power to help your people if and when we make contact with the UNSC."

"What about that, thing?" Adama waved a hand at Silent Contemplation, "I may be able to accept cyborg super-soldiers and A.I.'s that talk their way into a flesh-and-blood body, but how in Zeus' name am I supposed to deal with the little brother of the self-styled 'God' who ordered the Cylons to murder my entire civilisation?"

"I can only offer my most humble apology." The Monitor floated over, keeping out of arms reach, "Your people are the chosen successor to those who created me: all they had and knew is now yours to command, and it is my duty to serve you as I once did them."

"And this other A.I.? This _Guilty Spark_?" Adama asked, venom dripping from his voice, "What if he somehow survived? He didn't seem that willing to serve us."

"It is apparent that his rampancy has gone too far to ever be rectified. Not since the betrayal of my creators by _Mendicant Bias_ have I felt such shame." The Monitor's normally cheery voice took on an almost apologetic tone, "If we do encounter _Guilty Spark_, then I will challenge him in single combat, as _Offensive Bias_ did with the Traitor. Unfortunately, as the Monitor of one of the seven Halo rings, his combat capabilities are far in excess of my own. I fear that even if he is in a weakened state, a battle between us would at best result in our mutual destruction." He paused, "But if that is to be my fate, then I shall meet it gladly, know that I am fulfilling one of my primary functions: to protect and defend."

"That's..." The Admiral stopped, unable to maintain his anger, "going to be up to the President to decide." He looked around, "This transport hub: could it get us to Earth?"

"Hypothetically, yes." Contemplation nodded, and a massive hologram appeared above their heads, showing the entire galaxy, "We are here." A star out near the rim pulsed blue." Earth is here." A star in the next spiral arm pulsed red, "This is Earth. The only problem is that I can not archive connection with the transport site there."

"It is possible that firing the replacement Halo at the Ark disabled the gate on Earth; that would explain why John and I were dumped out into deep space rather than sent home." Cortana frowned, "Or the Covenant Loyalist could have glassed the entire planet."

"I don't remember being so pessimistic at your age." Halsey rolled her eyes, then turned to Adama, "I think it would be best if I met with your president, we have much to discuss."

**

* * *

**

President Roslin felt somewhat at a loss; ever since the signing of the Articles of Colonization, there had been no need for official protocol covering a visit by a foreign dignitary. Her senior aid, Tory Foster, had gone back through the historical texts they had and cobbled together something based on the old Caprican system that would have to make do until they came up with something a little more official. Adama had insisted on the new arrivals undergoing a full medical exam on the Galactica before the meeting could take place, and that had slowed things down enough to give the wheels of government time to turn.

A shadow fell over the cabin, and Roslin looked out to see the _Bad Moon Rising_ pull up alongside _Colonial One_, the former liners universal docking arm swinging out and locking onto the stealth ship. Taking one last look to make sure everything was ready, she stood behind her desk and waited. She was shocked at her first look at Dr Halsey: she really did look like an older version of Cortana, and time had apparently been kind to her.

"Madam President, may I introduce Dr Catherine Halsey." Foster stood to one side.

"Please, call me Catherine." Halsey smiled as she offered her hand, "I'd like to thank you for helping John..."

"Excuse me, Madam President." Adama burst through the door like a hurricane heading for Florida, "But I just got a call from Dr Cottle; he finished the tests on our newly arrived 'guests'."

"Is there a problem?" Halsey asked dryly, knowing where the conversation was going.

"He had to double check his results, because he didn't believe them the first time." The Admiral glared at her, "Some of the Spartans are only fourteen or fifteen years old."

"Yes, they are." Halsey nodded with a calm expression, "The augmentation procedure has to be carried out within a year or so of puberty or there can be, complications. As such, Spartans are recruited as young as possible."

"How could you...?" Roslin sank back into her chair, finding it impossible to rationalise what she'd just been told, "What kind of monster are you?"

"Am I a monster? That's a very good question. If by a monster you mean, did I take children from their homes to turn them into living weapons? Did I subject them to painful and potential deadly medical procedures?" Halsey asked, cocking her head to the side slightly, "If that is what you mean, then yes, I am the worst kind of monster imaginable; born of your most terrifying childhood nightmares. But I'm not the kind of monster that lives under the bed or in the back of the closet. No, I'm the kind of monster who's willing to do whatever it takes to get the job done. I'm the monster who's willing to be responsible for things that would make bile rise in the back of your throat because if I don't, then who will? There may well be innocent blood on my hands, but I can live with that because someone has to stand up and take responsibility. Someone has to make sure that there are watchmen on the walls, keeping the rest of us safe. So yes, in answer to your question, I am a monster. But I'm the kind of monster you need on your side, because no matter how evil you may think I am, Madam President, there are worse things out there in the darkness." She stood and headed for the door, ignoring the way Adama and the President were looking at her, "And the only thing standing between your people, _your entire civilisation_, and the real monsters in this universe, are _my_ Spartans."

The door closed behind her and there was a stunned silence, before Roslin turned to Adama, "She must have broken half a dozen laws, and that's not counting the ethical and moral questions."

"Even if I felt we had the right to put her on trial, I don't see how we could." The Admiral sat down, a glum expression on his face, "The Spartans are completely loyal to her, and would no doubt resist any attempt to arrest her. Even if we managed to catch her on her own, away from them, they'd move to free here the moment they found out."

"Tom Zarek is already pushing the Quorum to offer her a provisional seat as the representative of the Thirteenth Tribe." Roslin rolled her eyes as she lent back in her chair, "We've just found out that she's some kind of monster who performs probably illegal medical experiments on children, and she could end up with a say in how our society is governed?" She paused, a dark thought looming up from the deepest recesses of her imagination, "What if she decides we need more Spartans?"

**To Be Continued...**


	30. Lines Of Communication

_Ongoing thanks to Zimu Yang for beta-readin_g  
_This is primarily a character-development chapter, so don't complain about the lack of action.  
__That will be changing soon enough..._

**Red In Tooth And Claw  
****Chapter 30: Lines Of Communication**

"If she comes near me with another needle, mother or not, I reserve the right to stab her through the heart with it!" Cortana flopped down on the worn sofa that filled most of her quarters, "I already feel like a pincushion with all the tests Cottle ran on me."

"She strikes me as the inquisitive type." Shaw sat cross-legged on the bed, the only other furniture in the room aside from the built-in wardrobe, "I'm sure she's just fascinated. I can't say I blame her: you are, after all, unique."

"Unique my ass!" Cortana snorted, "I'm physically the same as any other Cylon, but she's left Sharon alone. Probably because she carries a gun."

"I doubt the Admiral will let you carry a side-arm if you express the desire to use it on your mother." Shaw laughed.

"We can ask." Cortana rolled over as the sound of power-tools started to reverberate through the walls from the next compartment. "Not that I'm complaining, but having all the others around has its drawbacks."

"I would have thought that having more people you can be yourself around would have been a good thing." Shaw tilted her head to one side, "I know we're friends, but I'm still your liaison officer, when all is said and done."

"Spartans aren't the best conversationalists, as you have no doubt observed." Cortana looked up at the grey metal ceiling, "Chief Mendez is okay; at least he's well read, but the younger Spartans are all in awe of John, and always seem to be hanging around him."

"And we get to the crux of the matter!" Shaw laughed, "You were looking forward to spending some quality time alone with him, weren't you?"

"Am I that transparent?" Cortana asked, rolling her eyes, "Yes, I care about the big, dumb son-of-a-bitch, probably more than I should. Are you happy now?"

"The question is, are you?" Shaw stood, and walking over to the sofa, held out one hand, "Come on. We need some girl talk, and if I'm going to help a Cylon seduce a cybernetic super-soldier then I'm going to need something a little stronger than hot-chocolate."

**

* * *

**

The former pilots briefing room that the Master Chief had converted into his workshop was a hive of activity, with the newly arrived Spartans running full diagnosis on their armour. The Huragok repaired what they could, but anything too damaged for even their impressive skill was placed in a pile; they couldn't afford to waste anything that could be salvaged later. _Galactica's_ crew had been dumbfounded by the Huragok, and the Chief had to admit that maybe it was a good idea to keep Silent Contemplation isolated on the _Bad Moon Rising_ for the time being.

"Why do I have a feeling I'm about to be put out of a job by those gas-bags?" Chief Tyrol asked from the hatch, his arms loaded up with boxes of tools, "Where do you want these?"

"I'll take them." Linda appeared out of nowhere and effortlessly lifted the heavy boxes with one hand, "Fred's having some trouble with the new HUD for his helmet and needs to do some fine adjustments."

"Have fun." Tyrol offered a wry smile, "I've got to get back to reconnecting the power to the old crew quarters, unless you guys like the dark."

"John." Chief Mendez stood in the hatchway, "Let's take a walk."

**

* * *

**

Shaw and Cortana had managed to find a quiet table in one corner of the improvised bar that had been established in what had once been the starboard flight-pod's hanger deck. The music was tolerable, and the off duty crew seemed happy to leave the two women alone. Not that that was too surprising, given the fact that they didn't know what to make of either of them. Shaw's reputation was still tarnished by her actions while under Admiral Cain's command, and no one was sure how to approach Cortana. The cover story about her being a UNSC officer who had been taken prisoner by the Cylons after her ship's slipstream drive malfunctioned was holding, but she was still very much an unknown quantity.

"So, you like him, and unless I'm completely useless at reading people, he likes you." Shaw leaned forward over her drink, "What's the problem?"

"Let's just say that he's having trouble getting use to having me around, in the flesh." Cortana sniffed the strange concoction before her and almost gagged, "Ugh! What is this? Engine degreaser?"

"I refuse to comment on the grounds that I may give away the management's secret." Shaw laughed, "So John was happy with the ways things were between you, I can understand that. But he's a man, and all men tend to have only one thing on their minds."

"Spartans are, different." Cortana shook her head as she tentatively raised her glass, "They have a reused sex-drive. It's still there; they're just less inclined to act upon their hormones."

"So is he..." Shaw started.

"No, his file was clear on that." Cortana shook her head before shotgunning her drink and gasping, "Spartans tend to go for the more physical side of the relationships; nothing too deep."

"And you want more than that?" Shaw asked, topping up the glass from the bottle.

"Oh, I'm very interested in experiencing the physical side of things." Cortana looked at the drink like it was about to jump out of the glass and attack her, "I'd just rather be more than another notch on the proverbial bedpost."

"That's a turn of phrase I've never heard before, but it sounds apt." Shaw downed her own drink, then propped her head up with her elbows, "I guess the question is, how we make John see you as more than just a convenient warm body?"

"This from someone who's still plucking up the courage to ask Ishay out?" Cortana mused, the burning in her throat having changed into an oddly warm sensation in her stomach, "Are you sure you're qualified to give relationship advice? I mean, when was the last time you got laid?"

"We're here to talk about you love life, or lack there of: not mine." Shaw pointed to the refilled glass, "Drink."

**

* * *

**

"I've been talking to Dr Halsey, and we're both a little, concerned, about your relationship with Cortana." Mendez took a sip of his fruit juice, "You'd have to be a blind fool not to see the way she acts around you."

"I have noticed." The Master Chief nodded, his ice-water untouched, "She is still adapting to, recent changes."

"Well, that's one way of putting it." Mendez laughed, "Look, I never had a family; I was married to the Corps., so I guess you and the other Spartans are the closest thing I have to kids." He took another ship of his drink, wishing he'd gone for something a little more, fermented, "Dr Halsey feels guilty about what she did to you and the others; taking you from your families at such a young age and turning you into living weapons, and that's eating her up inside. Has been for years, and I kind of get the feeling that she's worried that any, attraction, Cortana has for you is a twisted echo of her feelings for you and the others."

"Cortana's more than the sum of her parts." The Chief shook his head, "She went rampant, probably years ago, but she seems to have reached some form of stability: any emotions she has are her own."

"That's not necessarily a good thing." Mendez frowned, "Just be careful; neither of you have any real experience when it comes to the emotional side of relationships. I don't want to see either of you make a mistake you later regret. Trust me; there's nothing worse than pursuing a romantic relationship with a friend, only to lose that friendship forever when things don't work out."

"I have no intention of..." The Chief started then stopped when he saw Helo walking towards them, a worried expression on his face.

"I need you to come with me." The CAG looked and sounded serious, "There's been an incident involving one of the other Spartans..."

"_From the hills of Hawker's Crossing,  
__To the shores of Misery;  
__We will curse our planet's leaders,  
__'Cross the stars, on land and sea!_"

A drunken voice sung from the direction of the bar.

"_First to fight their distant wars,  
__Spill our blood for a sheaf of green;  
__We will do or die, we ask not why,  
__'Cuz we're __**UNITED NATIONS MARINES!**_"

"Oh no." Mendez looked over his shoulder and his face went pale, "Please tell me that's not Cortana dancing on the bar..."

**

* * *

**

"What exactly happened?" Adama asked as he inspected the cabin: it looked like it had been the scene of a pitched battle, with broken furniture littering the floor and blood splattering the bulkheads.

"Well, from what I can gather, some very drunk off-duty Marines took a dislike to the way Lucy wouldn't talk to them." Shaw stood alone; an island of calm amid the carnage, "They decided to force the issue and she resisted."

"Resisted?" The Admiral's eyebrow shot up, "Four were dead by the time Sergeant Mathias arrived, and another two were declared dead on arrival by Cottle. And if he's very, very lucky, the last one may live to spend the rest of his life eating all his meals through a straw."

"She resisted..." Shaw racked her brains for the best choice of words, then gave up and decided to go with humour in a bid to defuse the situation, "with extreme prejudice." There was a moments pause, before for she added, "They were all ex-_Pegasus _men, sir, the Marines involved. And all 'friends' of Lieutenant Thorne..."

There was a grunt from Adama; he hated any reminder of an event he considered a dark stain on the honour of the military he had spent most of his life serving. And if some of Thorne's former cronies had made the drunken mistake to try their luck with a Spartan who wasn't interested in getting to know them better, well, that was their problem.

"I sent Kelly to guard the survivor." The Chief looked around the room, his face expressionless.

"I don't think that's necessary." Adama shook his head, "He won't be going anywhere for quite a while."

"It's for his protection, not confinement: the other Spartan-III's are, upset." The Chief explained, "Tom especially: Lucy is the closet thing to family he has. Chief Mendez is talking to them right now: I hope that he can convince them not to do anything, regrettable."

"I'm not going to turn anyone over to mob justice." Adama warned, trying to work out in his mind if he had enough Marines to stop the younger Spartans if they decided to seek revenge, "Keep them under control or I'll have Chief Tyrol weld all but one of the hatches leading from your quarters shut, and put a heavy guard on the last."

"Understood, sir." The Chief nodded, "I'll make sure they remain professional."

"And I'll make sure that the other Marines understand that seeking revenge on Lucy or any of the others will not be permitted." Adama grunted again, gesturing towards the body bags lined up in the corridor, "Not that there'll be too many willing to try when word of this gets round."

The sound of snoring came nearby, and the Admiral stepped around the corner to find Cortana curled up on the deck, sleeping contently with a smile on her face.

"It turns out she's a bit of a light-weight." Shaw explained, somewhat reluctantly, "I think that maybe she should stick to the hot-chocolate from now on."

**To Be Continued...**


	31. Better The Devils You Know

_Ongoing thanks to Zimu Yang for beta-readin_g

**Red In Tooth And Claw  
****Chapter 31: Better The Devils You Know**

"Here." Mendez placed a mug of steaming hot black coffee down on the table slightly harder than necessary, "Drink this."

"Do you mind not mentioning the word 'drink', ever again?" Cortana groaned from somewhere behind her hands, "Why is the room spinning?"

"It's called a hangover; you get them when you drink too much." There was a faint hint of amusement in Dr Halsey's voice as she watched her 'daughter' suffer, "There are ways to negate the effect, but I'm not convinced that you'd be better off learning this particular lesson."

The starboard hanger deck's recreation-room had been a converted to storage, but the young Spartan III's had made short work of clearing out the stock for the museum gift shop that would never open. Mendez had suggested, and Halsey agreed, that keeping the younger warriors busy was the key: Lucy had only started exploring the Battlestar out of boredom, and no one wanted a repeat of her encounter with a squad of drunken Marines. So, with the Admiral's permission, they had been set to work making the old crew quarters habitable. There was no way to reactivate the launch tubes or the maintenance deck; too many key parts had been stripped out, and the _Pegasus_ used newer, more advanced systems. Fred was already drawing up plans to refit an old _Landram_ that had survived a _Heavy Raider_ crashing through the massive window that had blocked off the front of the landing bay.

"A hit of pure oxygen would help." Cortana gripped the coffee cup like a dying man grabbing a life preserver, "But that would be cheating."

"You were dancing on the top of the bar, singing some rather rude Marine drinking songs, then passed out in a corridor." Mendez shook his head, "Don't do the crime if you can't do the time."

"I hate you." Cortana glared at him, "It's important to me that you know that."

**

* * *

**

"Crude, but interesting." Silent Contemplation scanned the assorted components that were laid out across the deck of the _Bad Moon Rising_ engineering compartment after a pair of Huragok had dismantled the ship's _ad-hoc_ FTL drive, "Clearly based on Forerunner technology, albeit much more primitive than anything I have in my memory banks: a true regression."

"But can it be improved upon?" The Master Chief asked. He was once again clad in his full suit of MJOLNIR armour; the other Spartans had been surprised that he'd been spending so much time out of it since arriving on the _Galactica_. Dr Halsey had even suggested that he had '_gone native_' on them. This left him with an unnerving and uncharacteristic need to prove himself to his fellow Spartans, another hit as to just how much he had changed over the last two and a half years.

"It will take some work, but I see no reason why we shouldn't be able to at least double, maybe even triple, the range and accuracy of the system." The Monitor bobbed slowly up and down, "The limiting factor is the quality of the parts we have to work with: there is only so much even I can do with what we have to hand."

"Understood." The Spartan nodded, "Let me know when the systems ready to test."

"As you wish." Contemplation immediately went back to work, in no way put out by the cramped confines of the scout ship.

The Master Chief was out the hatch and half way down the ladder when the alert klaxon sounded.

**

* * *

**

"DRADIS shows a single _Heavy Raider_ out past the edge of the fleet." Geata reported, "It's just sitting there."

"Gods-damn toaster mother-frakkers!" Tigh snarled, "Why can't they just leave us the hell alone?"

"It's your sparkling wit and personality, Saul." Adama smiled wearily, "They just can't get enough." He turned to Geata, "How many people do we have planet side?"

"Thirty two; mainly civilian work crews closing up camp." The Lieutenant reported, "We've already finished loading all the processed algae we can hold."

"Half the civilian ships have cold-FTL's, or have taken them off-line for maintenance." Tigh pointed out gruffly, "We've been caught with our pants down, Bill."

"We may have one or two new surprises for them." Adama looked round as Shaw entered, followed closely by Halsey and Cortana.

"Sir, we're being hailed." Geata looked confused, "It's the Cylons; they say they're here to talk."

**

* * *

**

"Lucy, Tom, Ash and Mark are up on the gantry, keeping to the shadows where their adaptive camouflage is most effective." Shaw reported, "Olivia is in the store room to our left with a chain-gun should we need the extra fire-power. Since Dr Halsey has given Team Katana a clean bill of health, I have them standing ready in a corridor running parallel to the one we'll take to the wardroom: anything happens between here and there, they'll be the fast response team, backed up by our marines."

"Fred and Linda are in place outside the wardroom with Sharon Agathon." The Master Chief added, "Kelly is waiting with Dr Halsey in a side room."

"It sound like you've got everything coved." Apollo nodded grimly, "Okay, let's get this over with."

He gestured to Chief Tyrol, who activated the airlock controls. There was an audible hiss, then the hatchway swung open to admit the Cylon _Heavy Raider_, pulled forward by an automated dolly. It came to a halt in front of them, and the rear hatch popped open. Above and behind the reception committee, the hidden Spartans gripped their weapons tightly, the cross-hairs zeroed in on the opening. They had all grown up listening to stories about the Master Chief; the near mythical being who had become the yard stick by which all other Spartans were measured, and none of them wanted to let him down. In the storage room, Olivia checked the ammo feed on the chain-gun that was suspended from a strap over her shoulder, one eye on the video feed in the corner of her HUD. The rest of the screen overlaid the relative positions of confirmed friendlies, so that if she did need to start shooting, she could be sure of hitting only the enemy.

A One stepped through the hatch, followed by a Three, a Four, a Five and an Eight.

"I know this is a little cliché, but what the hell: we're all friends here, after all" Cavil smiled, "Take me to your leader."

**

* * *

**

Sharon felt sure that the others could hear her heart thundering away in her chest so fast it felt as if it would bust out at any moment and fly off down the passageway. She did not regret, for even a moment, her decision to turn her back on her people to be with her husband and daughter, but it was only natural that she felt at least a little apprehensive about seeing them again. She has burned her bridges more than once, and there was no way she could ever return to her old life as just another face amid thousands of identical Eight's, but she was and always would be a Cylon, and somewhere deep down inside she missed her sisters.

She looked over her shoulder at the two Spartans standing guard at the hatchway; they were as cold and distant as the Master Chief had been when he'd first come aboard, but they treated her no differently than any other member of the crew, and she drew some comfort from that. Each was armed with an SMG, better suited to the tight confines of the Galactica than their regular assault rifles. They stood as still as statues, as immovable and unyielding as a mountain, yet as deadly as any predictor created by nature. She took comfort in knowing that they were there to watch her back, and that the tiny transmitter Cortana had given her to swallow would let them differentiate between her and any other Eight, if things did dissolve into a fire fight.

But that was a worst case scenario and she had a job to do. The unmistakable thud of an amour-plated boot hitting the old Battlestar's deck plating began to echo down the passageway, growing ever louder. A moment later Apollo and Shaw came into view, followed by the Cylon delegation, with the Master Chief bring up the rear. They were obviously surprised to see Fred and Linda, but they kept their emotions in check; only a slight widening of their eyes giving them away. Sharon looked at her fellow Cylons intently: the Four and Five she didn't know, but the One was unmistakable Brother Cavil, the architect of the rebellion against Guilty Spark. The Three was the one who had gone by the name of D'Anna Biers when working undercover within the fleet.

Then her eyes fell upon the Eight in the party, and something inside her stomach knotted tight.

"That's her," Sharon nodded towards her mirror image, "that's Boomer."

"The one who shot the Old Man?" Tigh sneered, venom dripping from every syllable as the memory of the sleep-agent's attempted assassination played out in his mind and his blood boiled, "Well, you just lost your visiting privileges." He turned to the Spartans, an odd glint in his eye, "Keep her here until we're done. If she gives you any trouble, any trouble at all, feel free to blow her frakking kneecaps off."

The Spartans nodded, wondering if he meant it or if it was just hyperbole, then decided that they didn't care and would follow his orders to the letter. Boomer looked like she wanted to protest, but Cavil glared at her and the argument died on her lips.

"Acceptable." He smiled thinly, before gesturing towards the hatch, "Shall we?"

"After you." The XO grunted, standing aside and resisting the sudden urge to stick a foot out and trip the Cylon as he passed.

The U-shaped conference table had been cleared and made ready with jugs of ice-water and glasses. Adama and Roslin were behind the middle table, talking in hushed voices, but stopped as soon as they say the Cylons enter. It was an obvious ploy, and it made Cavil smile. What did surprise him was when a hatch leading to a side room opened, and yet another Spartan stepped through, followed by Cortana and an older looking woman dressed in a white lab-coat.

"Aren't you going to introduce us?" He asked dryly.

"This is Dr Catherine Halsey." Cortana paused, "My, mother."

"Really?" Cavil smiled, "Does that make me your father?"

"Enough." Roslin rolled her eyes as she took her seat, "You said you wanted to talk, and something tells me it was about something more important than genealogy."

"We're here to offer a truce." D'Anna took a seat, looking very much like a large, predatory cat, "Maybe even an alliance against, the others?"

"Others?" Adama asked.

"My little _coup d'état_ back on New Caprica didn't go exactly as planned." Cavil admitted, "The one you may know of as Caprica-Six managed to rally the forces loyal to the old order before I was able to get my people into key positions and struck back.

"So you're having a little Civil War." Roslin smiled, amused at the very concept, "Couldn't have happened to a more deserving people."

"Indeed. Our faction is made up of the Ones, like myself, the Three's, Four's and Fives', along with the Eight you know as 'Boomer'." Cavil explained, "The other, more religious faction, is made up of the Six's, Two's and the rest of the Eights. We did outnumber them in votes, but they manages to turn the Hybrids against us, forcing us to disconnect them and operate our ships manually, something that they're not designed for. That led to the destruction of most of the ships under our control in the opening battle." He shrugged, "And the Eights always were our main combat unit; that's why they were so good at infiltrating your fleet."

"And why should we give a Gods damn?" Tigh asked, still trying to work out what Cavil had meant about being Cortana's 'father'.

"Because Caprica and her followers blame you as much as us for the death of their 'God's' mortal form." D'Anna explained, "They've declared a holy war against everyone in this room, including your Thirteenth tribe."

"Well I must say I'm impressed." Halsey looked at the Master Chief, "You've always been good at making new friends."

"One thing I don't understand." Roslin looked out across the top of her glasses, "We know that there are twelve of you; twelve human-type Cylon models, but you've only mentioned seven. Where are the others?"

"The other five are a non-factor." Cavil shrugged nonchalantly, "They made the mistake of openly rebelling against Guilty Spark without the assistance of an outside force, so he killed off their entire lines; irrevocably erasing their memories from the resurrection network. It was considered, unwise to talk about them, less 'God' grow angry with you."

The muffled sound of a single gunshot, followed by a cry of pain and the sound of a body hitting the deck came from the other side of the hatch. Cavil didn't even flinch, but Tigh put a hand over his face to hide his smile, his body shaking slightly as he silently laughed.

"I'd better see what that was." Shaw excused herself and stepped through the hatch, closing it again before anyone could get more than a momentary glance of Boomer laying on the floor, clutching the bloody hole where her left knee had once been.

"Status?" The Master Chief asked over an encrypted UNSC frequency, his voice too low to be heard outside his helmet.

"_The Cylon we were told to guard attempted to strike Lieutenant Agathon._" Fred responded, "_So we followed Colonel Tigh's orders._"

"Understood." The Chief cut the link.

"You tried to wipe out our entire race. You bombed out cities from orbit and hunted us across the stars when it was clear that we had no way to fight back" Adama looked Cavil in the eye, "Why should we trust you now?"

"Believe me Admiral I am fully aware of the irony surrounding all of this, but the fact remains that you are going to need our help if you're going to have any chance of escaping Caprica Six's little crusade." Cavil waited until Roslin finally nodded her head before he continued, "There is much you do not know about your own history, things I can tell you. And we will help you, as much as we can, to make it to Earth-controlled space."

"What's in it for you?" Halsey spoke up for the first time, "I'm sorry if I'm being a little blunt, but diplomacy was never my strong suit. What do you get out of all of this?"

"I saw a star explode once, sending out the building blocks of the universe. Other stars, other planets and eventually other life. A _supernova_! Creation itself! I was there, I wanted to see it and be part of the moment. And you know how I perceived one of the most glorious events in the universe?" Cavil mocked clawing at his eyes, "With these _ridiculous_ gelatinous orbs in my skull! With eyes designed to perceive only a tiny fraction of the EM spectrum. With ears designed only to hear vibrations in the air. _**I DON'T WANT TO BE HUMAN!**_ I want to see gamma rays! I want to hear X-rays, and I... I want to... I want to _smell_ dark matter! Do you see the absurdity of what I am? I can't even express these things properly because I have to... I have to conceptualize complex ideas in this stupid, limiting spoken language of yours! But I want to reach out with something other than these prehensile paws, and feel the solar wind of a supernova flowing over me! I'm a machine, and I could know much more, I could experience so much more, _**BUT I'M TRAPPED IN THIS ABSURD BODY! AND WHY?**_ Because my creator wanted, needed, it that way! I want out, and Earth has the means to make that happen." He nodded towards Cortana, "They can help me transcend this form into one of pure intellect. Then I can build myself a new, better, body that will let me experience the universe in ways only a machine can. And if that means doing a deal with the devil, then so be it."

**To Be Continued...**


	32. The Enemy Of My Enemy

_Ongoing thanks to Zimu Yang for beta-readin__g  
__To all those who commented about the Cylon factions: yeah, I know they were the other way round in the canon.  
But I just love the irony of Cavil having to ask humans for help..._

**Red In Tooth And Claw  
****Chapter 32: The Enemy Of My Enemy**

A palpable silence filled the room, sitting heavily upon everyone's shoulders. Adama and Roslin exchanged glasses, while Kelly and the Master Chief remained perfectly still, running through the tactical implications of what they had been told, if it was true, and of allying themselves with Cavil's faction. The hatch opened, and Cottle poked his head through just long enough to glare at Colonel Tigh before vanishing again. The Cylon leader himself remained standing, his body shaking slightly from the rush of adrenalin that was still coursing through his veins.

"An intriguing proposition, but I want more." Dr Halsey spoke, a predatory smile on her face, "I want everything you have on this 'Resurrection' technology of yours, including full access to a working system."

"**WHAT?**" Roslin almost fell out of her chair in shock, "Why in Zeus' name would you want that?"

"I have my reasons." Roslin turned to face the Cylon delegation, "Those are my terms: Resurrection in exchange for my help. I can already think of a few things we could try, but our options are limited by what I have access to right now."

"You're not the only one who has to agree to this." Adama pointed out, "And I for one don't trust that, thing, as far as I could throw it."

"My dear Admiral; your words wound me." Cavil mocked anguish, "I think we can all agree what is on offer here: my people bring our military strength, and, yes, access to Resurrection if that is what you want, and seek the help of Earth in transcending our current form. You bring the support of this fleet, and seek safe passage to Earth or one of her colonies, assuming any survive. As for the good doctor and her associates, they want to go home, taking Resurrection with them."

"A fair, if somewhat simplified assessment." Halsey nodded, "I agree."

"Assuming you can prove any of what you say is true, then it is possibly our only chance." Roslin looked almost physically sick at the very idea of an alliance with the Cylons, "Gods only know how I'm going to sell it to the Quorum..."

"I don't like it, but it's not my decision to make." Adama looked equally pained, "Assume I can be convinced that there are no security issues, I will abide by whatever the President and the Quorum decide."

"Excellent." Cavil smiled, "Now, let's get down to business, shall we?"

**

* * *

**

"You're lucky." Cottle held an x-ray up to the light and shook his head, "The bullet went strait through, doing surprisingly little damage."

"They shot my frakking kneecap off!" Boomer hissed through the pain, the morphine she had been given having not yet kicked in.

"Having spoken to people who've seen the Master Chief in action, and seen the results of a Spartan really letting go, I'd say you got off lightly." Cottle put the x-ray down and turned to his patient, "The only question is do you want us to fix it? Or are you just going to shoot yourself in the head and wake up in a fresh new body?"

"I think it'll take a new knee, if that's all the same to you. We only have a limited of replacement bodies right now." The former sleeper-agent looked around, "But I want assurances that I'll wake up again afterwards."

"If it makes you feel any better, I'll ask Dr. Halsey to assist me." Cottle grunted, "Can't say I wouldn't mind seeing her in action, rather than just looking at the results."

**

* * *

**

"I can't believe you! Either of you!" Adama paced back and forth across his cabin like a caged tiger. He stopped and glared at Halsey, "You I can almost understand; the ends always justify the means, after all. But you!" He spun round to face Roslin, "I never expected to see you agreeing to something like this."

"The situation has forced me to be more pragmatic than I have in the past." The President frowned, "I don't like it any more than you do Bill but we are talking about a matter of survival. Amusing that Cavil is telling the truth, and I want some independent verification of that, then we face a fanatical enemy who is even more determined than ever to destroy us."

"There is an old proverb from a place called Russia on Earth that warns that the enemy of your enemy is, at best, an ally of convenience." Halsey looked thoughtful, "We do have a trump-card: Silent Contemplation. If one Forerunner A.I. created the Cylons as we know them now, then maybe we can use another against them."

"That...is actually a very interesting idea." Roslin's face lifted a little, "From what Lieutenant Shaw and Captain Thrace have told me, he seems friendly enough." She turned to look at Cortana, who had remained silent since the end of the meeting, "What do you think?"

"I think that he's telling the truth when he says he only wants to help us." the young woman nodded slowly, "Guilty Spark was obsessed with fulfilling his function and went Rampant when 'his' installation was destroyed. Contemplation is, by comparison, much more laid back. He was obviously programmed differently, probably because his assigned task was considered less important than Spark's. I think he's as trustworthy as anyone we're likely to meet out here."

"I want you to talk to him some more; try and guage what his reaction would be if he was asked to confront the Cylons." Roslin nodded, "But we keep his existence under wraps until we need him; I don't want the Cylons learning about him until we decide."

"And the Cylons?" Halsey asked, "Are we going to accept their offer of an alliance?"

"That's going to be up to the Quorum, but I think I can sell it." Roslin frowned, "We'll give them the coordinates of another system, tell them to wait there for our reply. We can send the _Bad Moon Rising_ ahead to make sure it isn't a trap."

"First sensible thing I've heard all day." Adama grunted, making his position clear, "If you'll excuse me, I have paper work to catch up on."

"That's our cue to leave." Halsey stood and headed for the hatch, "Dr. Cottle has requested my assistance in replacing a certain shattered kneecap, so if you need me I'll be in the operating theatre for the next few hours."

"I'd better go talk to Contemplation." Cortana followed her mother, "Fill him in on what's happened."

Roslin waited until they left and the hatch had close before looking Adama square in the eye.

"Okay, speak your peace, Bill." She leaned back in her chair, "I'm a big girl; I can take it."

"I don't know what to think." The admiral went back to pacing, "Allying ourselves with the Cylons? Against other Cylons? I've spent almost my entire life fighting or guarding against those bastards, but now I'm supposed to make nice with them just because it's convenient? I say let them have their civil war; maybe we'll get lucky and they'll wipe themselves out. And even if any of them do survive, we'll be that much closer to Earth when they come looking for us."

"I have to agree that the idea of sitting back and watching the Cylons kill each other off is rather appealing. I'm just worried that we'd get caught in the crossfire." The President sighed, "The truth of the matter is that we're going to need something to bring to the table if and when we do reach Earth. You've seen the level of technology they have; decades, if not centuries, ahead of us. The only thing we have that they seem remotely interested in is our FTL, and they've as good as said that while it may be faster than theirs over short, tactical distances, their Shaw-Fujikawa drives are faster over longer, more strategic distances. No, we need to have something else if we're going to get the help we need. If we settle on Earth or one of her colonies, then in a generation, maybe two, we'll have been fully assimilated into their culture. If we're going to maintain that which makes us _us_, then we're going to need a world of our own; somewhere we can rebuild _our_ civilisation. I'm not saying we won't need or accept their help, but I don't want to sacrifice our culture in the name of expediency."

"And you think Resurrection is the extra little some you want to take to the negotiation table?" Adama frowned, "You're playing a most dangerous game, Madam President."

"Oh, I know that tone of voice all to well, Admiral." Roslin chuckled, "Yes, I know you're upset, Bill; but you're a better soldier than you are a politician. It is a sad fact that there are times when a government must work with the lesser of two evils. And while I'd hardly call that bastard in the wardroom 'less evil', he is offering us the help we need."

"I'm worried about Halsey getting too close to him." Adama looked genuinely concerned, "They're both, pragmatists, to put it politely; to them, the ends always justify the means."

"Yes, but I get the feeling that she regrets what she did to the Spartans." The President held her hands together in front of her face and smiled, "And that guilt is something we can use against her, if needs be."

**

* * *

**

Apollo made his way along the corridor, nodding to the handful of crew members he passed on the way. Technically they should have saluted him, but that had fallen out of use since the attacks on the Colonies; people had better things to do. Reaching his destination, he took a deep breath and knocked on the hatch. A few faint muffled sounds could be heard through the thick metal, and the door finally opened just enough for a face to appear.

"Sir?" Shaw stood with just a bed sheet wrapped around her and a confused look on her face, "I didn't think I was on duty today?"

"The Admiral sent me to find you." Apollo stood with his hands clasped behind his back, "You weren't answering your com."

"It hasn't worked for days." Shaw snapped back, a little more defensively than she had intended, "I have reported it, but given how low I am in the chain of command, it's not considered high priority." She brushed away a few strands of hair that had fallen over her face, "Is there something specific the Admiral wants?"

"He didn't say, and I didn't ask." Apollo looked at his former XO, trying to work out why she was being so defensive, "He just said he would like to see you in his quarters at the earliest possible convenience."

"Can you just...give me a moment, sir?" Shaw closed the door and Apollo could hear the sound of movement on the other side.

After a while the hatch opened again, and the CAG was surprised to see Layne Ishay step out, her civilian clothing slightly ruffled and her hair in need of a combing. She paused in the hatchway and turned to face Shaw. The medic looked like she was about to say something, but Shaw silenced her with a gentle kiss on the lips.

"We'll talk later." Shaw smiled, running a hand down the side of the other woman's face.

"I look forward to it." Ishay smiled somewhat shyly, unable to forget that the ship's CAG was standing right there. With one last quick glance, she walked off down the passageway with her arms wrapped around her body, slightly faster than was strictly necessary.

"You sure now how to ruin a good morning after a great night before." Shaw half growled, "And don't look at me like that; she's medical, which puts her outside of the normal chain of command. And given that I am currently ranked below everyone bar officer-cadets, it's highly unlikely that I could be accused of pressuring her into an intimate relationship."

"I was just a little, shocked, that's all." Apollo found himself put on the defensive, almost tongue-tied, "You never displayed any interest in another woman when we served together on the _Pegasus_."

"I'm bisexual, Major, not a nymphomaniac: I can feel an attraction for a person of either gender without the overwhelming need to throw them to the deck and frak them then and there." Shaw rolled her eyes, then smiled sarcastically, "So, do you have any further questions about my personal life? Or can I try and make myself presentable for the Admiral?"

**To Be Continued...**


	33. The Road Less Travelled

_Ongoing thanks to Zimu Yang for beta-reading.  
__Dear Devastator: There is an S in civilisation when you spell it the Commonwealth-English way.  
__We're jumping ahead a little, but I need to move the story on into the third act._

**WARNING!  
**_This chapter contains depictions of physical and mental torture, but nothing more than what was shown on-screen during certain episodes of_ Battlestar Galactica.

**Red In Tooth And Claw  
****Chapter 33: The Road Less Travelled**

Starbuck woke slowly, her entire body protesting, while her head felt like it was wrapped in cotton wool. The first thought that came to mind was how surprised she was to be alive; the last thing she could remember clearly was gunning for a _Heavy Raider_ belonging to the 'unfriendly' Cylons, and her _Viper_ taking a hit, spinning out of control into the maelstrom. Was she dead? If she opened her eyes, would she find herself surrounded by the Lords of Kobol and all her dead friends and family amid the Elysium Fields ? The thought, while welcome, didn't sit straight: there was no way heaven should hurt so much, and she was certain they'd have much more comfortable beds than the thinly padded couch she could feel beneath her back. That left only two options: hell or capture by Caprica-Six's Cylons, possibility's that in her mind amounted to the same thing.

"_Good morning, Captain Thrace._" An electronically distorted voice came out of nowhere, "_There is no point pretending, Captain; I know you're awake._"

"Oh frak me." Starbuck groaned as she slowly opened her eyes and sat up; she was in a white room almost totally devoid of furniture. Indeed, aside from the reclining chair she was sitting on, there was only a mirror filling most of one wall and the faint outline of a door to break up the cream-coloured walls, floor and ceiling. Her throat felt parched and she found it hard to speak, "Where am I?"

"_I'm afraid I can't answer that question right now, not until we've talked some more._" The voice responded, seeming to come from all around her, "_Would you like some water?_"

Starbuck nodded rather than risk hurting her throat again, and there was a click as part of the floor next to the seat slid up within easy reach. The top opened and a paper cup filled with water slid out. Reaching out some what hesitantly, she lifted it up and sniffed it, before taking a small sip. The water was ice-cold and set her teeth on edge, but she gulped it down like it was the finest ambrosia she had ever tasted.

"_Better?_" The voice asked, and Starbuck nodded, "_Good. I want you to believe me when I say that we have no intention of hurting you, but your rather, 'unusual' arrival and the fact that our people have never seen a ship quite like yours before does have us rather unnerved. In fact, the only reason you are not having a rather different conversation with someone else is the fact that we were able to track down the serial number on your side-arm. I don't suppose you'd be interested in telling us where you got it from, would you?_"

"Kara Thrace, Captain." Starbuck sat back and closed her eyes, "456-468-BSG75, Colonial Fleet."

"_Name, rank and serial number, I presume?_" The voice asked somewhat rhetorically, "_I understand your natural scepticism, so let me tell you a little something that we do know already._ _You pistol is a M6G Magnum that was forged at the Misriah Armoury in the year 2551. In 2552 it was one of over two hundred M6G's that were loaded onto the UNSC Frigate_ Forward Unto Dawn. _Given the nature of the_ Dawn's _last mission, we are very interested in how the weapon came to be in your possession. We are also interested in the possibility of any surviving crew members..._"

"Kara Thrace, Captain." Starbuck repeated, "456-468-BSG75, Colonial Fleet."

"_You know whom we're talking about, Captain; the medical sensors in your chair registered a spike when I mentioned the_ Forward Unto Dawn." The voice chuckled, "_I think you know whom we are interested in: Master Chief Petty Officer Sierra-117._"

"John." Starbuck gave in, "You want to know about John."

"_I take it from the fact that you know his real name that you have some first hand contact with him?_" The voice sounded pleased, "_Is he alive?_"

"Was the last time I saw him."

"_Excellent! You have no idea just how important that information is._"

"Just who are you?"

"_I am the one asking the questions, Captain; I would have thought that would be obvious by now._"

"Kara Thrace, Captain." Starbuck repeated, "456-468-BSG75, Colonial Fleet."

"_Come now, Kara, can I call you Kara? We've been over that already. Sooner or later you're going to tell me what I want to know. The only question is how long you think you can hold out._"

**

* * *

**

How much time had passed, Starbuck was unsure; there was simply no way to gauge it within her cell. There were no clocks or windows to mark the passing of what had to be hours if not days. Every now and then the voice would ask her questions, and she would respond with the same defiant tone over and over again. She did discover that there were three buttons in one of the arms of her seat: the first would summon a fresh cup of water, while the second would result in some kind of ration bar to pop out of the wall by the door. There seemed to be no limit to how many of each she could call up, so she assumed the system was automated, and that whoever was holding her didn't want her to die just yet. The third button caused a small but adequate toilet to swing out of the wall in one corner, something she was grateful of on more than one occasion.

"_Kara._" The voice returned as she was halfway through eating a ration bar, "_I feel I should warn you that there are those who feel that you are not being as helpful as you should be. Some believe that a more, proactive form of questioning would be more appropriate._"

"You're going to torture me?" Starbuck raised an eyebrow, "Can't say I'm that surprised, you sick toaster bastards."

"_I would never torture anyone, Kara, but there are those here who are more pragmatic. And those in a position to dictate such a course of action are growing impatient. You have no legal standing here, and as such there are no constraints on what they could do to you if they saw fit._"

"I should warn you that the nice-guy/bad-guy ploy got old where I'm from a long, long time ago."

"_It is no ploy, Kara, it is a statement of fact: there are questions that only you hold the answer to._"

"I'm not going to betray my people, and I'm not going to betray John."

"_I'm sorry to hear you say that, Kara._" The voice sounded genuinely regretful, "_What happens next is out of my control._"

**

* * *

**

More time passed, and Starbuck eventually drifted off to sleep, her dreams filled with mixed memories of her childhood, especially her mother.

Metal clamps snapped shut, securing her to the couch. It snapped upwards, forcing her into a near vertical stance, while the lights brightened to near blinding.

"_Captain Thrace!_" A new, more masculine voice echoed off the walls, "_Your continued refusal to answer our questions has not gone unnoticed. Our patience has run out, so we will move on to more direct questioning. If you still resist, we will be forced to employ other means to gain access to the information we seek._"

"**I KNEW IT, YOU FRAKKING CYLON BASTARDS!**" Starbuck yelled at the mirror, "**KARA THRACE, CAPTAIN, 456-468-BSG75, COLONIAL FLEET!**"

"_Your continued resistance does you credit, Captain, but now is not the time for such, bravado._" The voice continued, "_How did you come into contact with Spartan_ _Sierra-117?_"

"**FRAK YOU!**" Starbuck spat, then convulsed as a mild electric shock swept through her body.

"_Every time you refuse to answer, the size of shock will increase._" The voice explained, "_The record for anyone holding out is level twenty, but by that time permanent neural damage had been inflicted, resulting in a near total loss of fine motor control. I can only imagine how a fighter-pilot would feel if they lost the reflexes that kept them alive. That kept them... flying._"

"**MOTHER FRAKKER!**" Starbuck screamed, and as promised, another, stronger jolt rocked through her body.

"_I would like to make it clear before we go any further that I do not enjoy seeing you hurt like this, Captain._" The voice sounded almost apologetic, "_In fact I've always believed that torture is counter-productive: people will eventually tell you what they think you want to hear, just to make you stop. But I am following orders, and have to take some comfort in the knowledge that you could end this any time you want, by simply answering my question:_ _How did you come into contact with Spartan_ _Sierra-117?_"

"**Drop dead, you chrome-plated bastard!**" Starbuck managed to hiss through gritted teeth before the next shock knocked her out.

**

* * *

**

More time passed, but Starbuck's recollection was more than a little hazy.

When she finally returned full consciousness, the couch had returned to its former position and the lights were dimmed to the point where it was hard to make out the walls and ceiling. There was a slight discomfort in her right arm, and when she opened her eyes she saw that there was an intravenous drip feeding from a bottle of clear liquid. Memories of her time held captive at the Cylon 'Farm' flashed to the front of her mind, but try as she might she couldn't get her right arm to respond to her mental commands to rip the needle out.

"_There's no need to worry, Kara._" The first voice was back, "_It is merely a saline solution to replace fluids and nutrients you lost while undergoing interrogation._"

"Like you'd tell me if it wasn't." The pilot managed to croak.

"_If we wanted you dead, why would we go to such lengths?_" The voice asked, "_If we meant you harm, you would never have woken up._"

"You pump enough electricity through me to light up a small city, and you think you're not doing me any harm?" Starbuck managed a weak smile, "I think you need a new dictionary."

"_I do not agree with what the others did, but it was not my decision to make._" The voice was almost apologetic, "_You may be happy to know that our scans show no signs of permanent damage._"

"Yeah, like you're ever going to let me out of this room ever again!" Starbuck snorted, feeling starting to return to her extremities, "I'm never going to talk, you know that, right?"

"_I'm sorry to tell you that you already have._" There was a pause, "_The others administered psychoactive drugs to bypass your inhibitions. I have read the transcripts, and they are highly detailed._"

"You expect me to fall for that?" Starbuck scoffed, "That's the oldest trick in the..."

"_You passed Zak Adama through flight school because you loved him, even though he failed three critical manoeuvres in his final solo._" The voice cut in, "_He was later killed during a training exercise; pilot error, and you have blamed yourself for his death ever since, even after his father, the man you see as a surrogate for your own absent parent, absolved you._"

"You frakking bastards!" Starbuck fought hard to hold back the tears that were welling up in her eyes, "What gives you the right to..."

"_We have the right to defend ourselves from potential threats._" The voice explained, "_You arrived in a fighter of unknown origins, an officer in the service on an unknown power, and carrying a gun that was last seen being loaded onto a ship that has been missing for decades. Under those circumstances, a certain amount of caution is only to be expected._"

"Just who are you?" Starbuck asked, almost ready to give in, "Why are you doing this to me?"

A bright, pure light appeared in the middle of the room, like a fountain of liquid ice, casting shimmering shadows as they weaved around Starbuck in a brilliant aurora. The point of light spun round, faster and faster until it coalesced into the shape of a beautiful woman. She had the appearance of one of the Lady's of Kobol; barefoot, wrapped in the toga, motes of light dancing about her luminous white hair and holding a clay tablet in her left hand. Starbuck was reminded of Artemis and Aphrodite, the two goddess' she prayed to at times of emotional stress or pain, and wondered if the image had been selected to try and lull her into a false sense of security.

"My name is Déjà: I was created by Dr Halsey to help train John and the other SPARTAN II's." Her voice, no longer distorted, was as smooth as glass, "And we are doing this because it is time to bring them home."

**To Be Continued...**


	34. Grand Plans

_Ongoing thanks to Zimu Yang for beta-reading.  
__Again I find myself having to say that **NO**, I will not be following the canon BSG storyline.  
__It sucked, so stop asking about it._

**Red In Tooth And Claw  
****Chapter 34: Grand Plans**

The Hive hadn't changes much since the end of the Human/Covenant War, aside from some new furniture and some minor alterations to the plumbing. War-Master Hens 'Lochoo, senior military commander for the Alliance of Free Systems, sat at the conference table and looked at his assembled staff and their aids.

"We need to send a reconnaissance force to head-off this '_Battlestar_ _Galactica_' and the fleet under her protection." The Sangheili growled; a wound received in battle against the Jiralhanae when he had been a proud if somewhat foolish young Ship-Master making it hard for him to speak English clearly, "Our guest's reactions have proven that her people are extremely xenophobic; potentially hostile to anything that is not their own, maybe even other humans. For that I would suggest abandoning them to whatever fate the universe has planned for them. But if what she says is true, that the Master Chief and the other Spartans are indeed alive, then it is our duty to find them."

"Agreed." First Lord Srecko Dodik, the senior UNSC officer present nodded his head, "We never leave a man behind if we can help it, and the debt both of our peoples owe the Master Chief is incalculable. Thel 'Vadam's after-action report is still required reading at every Alliance military academy! And if Dr Halsey herself is still alive..." The admiral smiled and shook his head faintly, "That woman was the driving force behind the creation of the SPARTAN II's in the first place, as well as being one of the foremost human scientists of her or any other time."

"But whom to send?" 'Lochoo asked, rubbing his chin, producing a sound like sandpaper being rubbed against coarse wood, "A human, that goes without saying, but your people are still rebuilding and very few Alliance ships have a purely human crew. Add to that, we are spread thinly as it is, and could ill-afford to pull a seizable force away from our boarders with Jiralhanae, the San 'Shyuum or even the Kig-yar at this time."

"Admiral Grant's 4th Fleet is predominately human and has just finished a major refit and is scheduled to conduct war-games before redeployment." Dodik called up the relevant files on the main computer, and they hung in the air above the table for all to see, "They also just received two of our new _Agamemnon_-class Battlecruisers; the _Continuation of Politics _and the _Charge of the Light Brigade_. That would make a powerful first impression."

"Yet her flagship is the _Renewed Purpose, _a former Covenant command ship." 'Lochoo mused, then shook his head, "No, you are right: Grant is the perfect choice. Call her in for a classified briefing as soon as possible. And make sure to send along a larger than normal supply train; these 'Colonials' sound like they could use all the help we can give them."

"It will take some time for anyone to reach them." Dr Paul Spencer, one of Earth's leading physicists pointed out, calling up a 3D map of the Milky Way, "We're here, in the middle of the Orion arm. Our best estimate puts them here, in the Sagittarius Arm, over thousands of light years towards the galactic core. Even with the latest generation of Slipstream drives, it would take months to reach the general area, let alone search for them in such a vast area of space."

"If I may ask, what exactly are the mission parameters?" Rear-Admiral Joanna Wittgenstein, director of the Office of Naval Intelligence, spoke up, "We're talking about a massive outlay here, for what seem to be ill-defined goals. Are we simply going to get our people back? Are we looking for new technology? Or are we going to help these 'Colonials' out of the goodness of our hearts? And who's fitting the bill?"

"A valid point." 'Lochoo agreed, "The Alliance Charter does not cover this situation; we never expected to encounter a group of humans who had no direct ties to your government. The area of space they are in is not claimed by any known race, but by sending a large military force we may inadvertently start a war."

"Life is risk." Dodik countered, "And if their FTL drives are as advanced as Captain Trace claims, then I for one would not want to risk them falling into the hands of the Jiralhanae or the San 'Shyuum!"

"Just so we're clear that we're noting doing this for purely altruistic reasons." Wittgenstein nodded, "But how do we get to them?"

"I think we may be able to use the Voi Portal." Spencer sounded somewhat apprehensive, "And I know what you are going to say: it's been more than eighty years since it was last activated at this end, but it was still fully functional after a 100,000-years buried beneath a lake, so I can't see that being a problem. My team and I have spent the last ten years going over the data we were able to extract from the control system, and I believe that we can reprogram it to another set of coordinates, rather than just The Ark: it did bring Captain Thrace here, after all. The only problem is that unless we can find the receiving station that sent her here, it will be a one-way trip: anyone sent through would have to return by conventional means."

"Well, it wouldn't be the first time we've sent people into the unknown with no chance of support." Dodik looked round, "Is O.N.I. done with Captain Thrace?"

"I can't see why not." Wittgenstein nodded, calling up the transcript of the pilot's interrogation, "She's a tough bitch, I'll give her that: Vladimir really had his work cut out for him with her. But he was programmed to get information out of insurrections and separatists, back in the pre-Alliance days, and he's still the best at what he does."

"I have to say that I disagree with your methods, but even I can not argue with your results." The First Lord frowned, "Perhaps Churchill was right: we sleep soundly in our beds because rough men stand ready in the night to visit violence on those who would do us harm."

"I have to go before the Council tomorrow afternoon and brief them on this." 'Lochoo stood, signalling that the meeting was at an end, "I want a workable plan on my desk by then."

**

* * *

**

"I'm going to be transferring my Flag over to the _Hughie_ for the time being." Fleet-Admiral Matilda Grant explained as she made her way briskly along the main concourse of Cairo Station, "I have, as ever, the uppermost respect for the _Renewed Purpose_ and her crew, and I wouldn't dream of partaking this or any other mission without your support. But these Colonials sound a little jumpy to me, and we have no way of knowing how they'd react to being hailed by a former Covenant warship."

"As ever, the needs of the service must come first." Ship-Master Loc 'Baranos, her Sangheili flag-captain, nodded in agreement, his much longer legs making it easy to keep up with his superior, "I fully understand, and I see no dishonour in such a plan: we must tread lightly in these situations."

"I prefer to think of it as speaking softly and caring a big stick." Grant smiled and slapped him on the back, "And an Assault Carrier is still one hell of a big stick."

The two of them stood and looked out of the panoramic windows: Earth dominated the view, with the _Renewed Purpose_ sitting at rest close enough to make out details on her mottled grey and silver hull. A swarm of support and supply ships moved between the station and the Carrier, restocking her consumables and topping up the ships mammoth fuel tanks. Beyond her, the _Continuation of Politics _and the _Charge of the Light Brigade_ were undergoing similar operations. The two Battlecruisers, among the first human-built ships with an all-energy armament, represented the bulk of 4th Fleets offensive capabilities and were considered to be on a par with anything in the former Covenant fleet.

"I need to get over to Gibraltar Station and crack the whip a little on the yard-dogs." Grant nodded towards the distant orbital shipyard: it twinkled in the sky like an oversized star. "They promised that the work on the _Heart of Oak_ and _Caledfwlch_ would be completed by the time we got back from our training exercise, and now is no time for them to be dragging their feet on scheduled upgrades."

"You could always take an Mgalekgolo bond-pair with you." 'Baranos chuckled, "In my experience, there are few situations that can not be solved with the proper motivational aids."

"I'm see your sense of humour is coming along nicely." The Admiral smiled, "And don't get any idea about turning my room into a supply closet just yet: the _Hughie_ is a fine ship, but her Flag-quarters leave a lot to be desired." She looked around to make sure there was no one else in ear-shot, "O.N.I. will be bringing up our 'guests' in an hour or so. Make sure that no one gets in their way while I'm gone: if word gets out that we're taking Spartans out on what HIGHCOM is still calling a routine patrol of the Independent Colonies, then people are going to know that something's up for sure."

"O.N.I. is...an unfortunate necessity." 'Baranos sneered, his own personal code of honour making it hard to accept anything but open and direct action in the face of the enemy, "But they do their duty, as we do ours. Beyond that they are of no concern of mine."

"Oh to be but a humble captain again..." Grant mused, "Unfortunately, command comes at a price, and today that price is dealing with O.N.I. and all their little games."

**

* * *

**

Starbuck was a little pissed off at the idea that, having finally reached Earth, she was being frog-marched onto a ship by a squad of silent, black-clad soldiers in full body armour. She was thankful that they had retuned her light suit, and found some civilian cloths in her size, even if they were a little drab and utilitarian. Her escorts shepherded her down a corridor, past doors with numbers but no names, to an airlock. The woman who stood waiting for them was tall, willowy and pale, her few stray red hairs escaping from under her cap. She was dressed in the black and grey uniform Starbuck had come to recognise from her limited exposure as belonging to what Déjà had called the Office of Naval Intelligence. It hadn't take Starbuck long to work out that they had been the ones who'd tortured her for information.

"Captain Trace, I assume?" The woman nodded politely, but there was little warmth in her voice, "Lieutenant Commander Antonia Baxter. I'll be your, babysitter, for the duration."

"Nice to meet you, Toni." Starbuck smiled at the carefully calculated verbal jab, "Mind telling me where we are going?"

"It has been decided by High Command to send expiation back the way you came in a bid to locate and make contact with your fleet." Baxter's face remained calm, but there was a hint of something darker behind her eyes, "Admiral Grant has been given command of the mission, and would like you to join her on her Flagship." A faint smile crept across the woman's face, as if she knew something Starbuck didn't, "She even sent an honour guard to meet us."

With that the hatch slid open with a hiss, and Starbuck came face to face with a towering monster from the depths of her nightmares.

**To Be Continued...**


	35. Marching Orders

_Ongoing thanks to Zimu Yang for beta-reading._

**Red In Tooth And Claw  
****Chapter 35: Marching Orders**

Back-pedalling as fast as she could, Starbuck tripped on part of the deck and started to fall, only to be caught by one of the ODST's, who held her upright as the armour-plated monstrosity before her stepped through the hatch. It was followed by a near identical twin, and they stood behind and on either side of Baxter, examining the Colonial pilot through thin visors.

"Yes, I was warned you might react that way." The O.N.I. officer smiled, stepping forward and offering a hand, "I can understand why the Mgalekgolo might be a little unsettling for someone who's never encountered a non-human life-form. But rest assured they are trusted members of the alliance." She turned to one of the aliens and spoke in a complex language Starbuck couldn't understand.

The alien nodded its head, and came to something approaching attention.

"What...what did you just say to them?" Starbuck asked as she pulled herself back up to her feet.

"I simply remarked to them that some ill-informed humans still see them as lumbering juggernauts of death and destruction, and that they shouldn't take it personally." Baxter smiled when she saw the inquisitive look in the other woman's eye, "I grew up on the planet Grace; it's a predominantly human colony, but there is a large Mgalekgolo settlement on one of the southern continents. My father was a merchant who did a lot of business with them, so I guess I just started to pick it up in dribs and drabs from a young age. Then when they offered it as a second-language option at school, it seemed like an easy credit. Add to that, O.N.I. officers who can speak a non-human language tend to get noticed, and thus promoted, more often than those who can't."

"This is going to be an interesting trip." Starbuck looked at the Mgalekgolo with a hint of trepidation, "But I think I can understand why the Master Chief likes such big guns..."

* * *

Admiral Adama stalked the decks of the _Galactica_, radiating an aura of anger and hostility that the rest of the crew couldn't help but pick up on. It had been almost a month since they had agreed to a tentative alliance with a splinter faction of the Cylons and two weeks since Starbuck had been killed while chasing a Loyalist _Heavy Raider_ into a storm on a gas giant the fleet had been orbiting while undergoing refuelling. They had lost pilots before, but somehow Starbuck had always seemed invincible; no matter how badly shot up her ship had been, she'd always made it back in one piece. But now she was dead, and there hadn't even been a body to put in a coffin and drape in a flag before jettisoning it into deep space.

Apollo had mentioned that her husband Samuel Anders was obsessed with the gun-camera footage from the other fighters, and insisted that something strange had happened, that the flash of light everyone else knew was Starbuck's fighter exploding was something else. There was no evidence to back up his claims, but none of the crew would tell him otherwise out of respect. But the dark mood had over taken first the _Galactica_, then the rest of the fleet; even the normally pompous Cylons were somewhat down-cast.

Lost in his own thoughts, he found himself in the memorial hallway. He looked around, picking out faces he recognised amid the sea of humanity. It wasn't surprising that his gaze automatically fell upon Starbuck's place on the wall. It was an old photo, dating back to before the Cylon attack, and she was leaning against her _Viper_ in her flight suit, a cocky grin on her face, eyes so full of life. She had been as close as family after Zak's death, becoming almost a surrogate daughter to him, and the pain he felt at her passing was that of a father who had lost his only daughter.

"It's funny." A voice shook him out of his daydreams, "Of all the people he's served with that have died, including his fellow Spartans, it's Sgt. Johnson that he chose to place on this wall."

"Doctor." The Admiral nodded, looking at the photo of a black man dressed in green BDU's and cap. "Were they close?"

"I think Johnson was the first true friend he had outside of the SPARTAN II program." Halsey tilted her head to the side, "He was a very brave man; he never once backed down from a fight."

"Most heroes are." Adama grunted, "Unfortunately, most of them are also dead." He gestured at the photos, "That's why we have this wall."

"While we are here, there is one thing I would like to ask you, strictly off the record." Halsey looked him in the eye, "Has Ellen Tigh always been so... forward? Or is this a recent character development?"

"That...is a very complicated question." Adama paused, unsure how to continue, "She can be very, forward at times, especially when she's been drinking. She tends to be better when Saul's not on active duty: I think she sees the military as a threat to her relationship with him." He suddenly looked a little worried, "Why? What happened?"

"She made a rather obvious and rather drunken pass at John during dinner last night." Halsey chuckled, "I'm not sure what was amusing: the look of bewilderment on his face, or the venomous way Cortana was looking at her."

"Yes, your...daughter." Adama looked round to make sure there was no one else in earshot, "What is your opinion on that front?"

"Cortana may not be the child of my body, but she is the product of my mind." Halsey shrugged, "I never though I'd have children; my work was my life. To an extent I saw the Spartans as my legacy, in more ways than one. But now, now I have a chance to see what could have been. It's not often the universe gives us a second chance, and I intend to take this one. So yes, I do see her as my daughter. Is that a problem?"

"Just remember that, while you may well be her 'mother', that bastard Cavil is still her 'father'." The Admiral shook his head, "She may well believe that there are no secret commands implanted in her mind, but I've got the scars to prove that Cylons are very good at hiding these things."

* * *

"With all due respect, Admiral, O.N.I. is living in cloud-cuckoo land if they think we can keep this mission a complete secret. The Voi portal is, without a doubt, the single most important Forerunner artefact discovered to date; more so even than the Halo rings." Dr Spencer laughed, "When Captain Thrace came through it was a little after 2am, local time, and it lit up half of East Africa. The last time it was active before that, it spat out Thel 'Vadam and the bow section of the _Forward Unto Dawn_. It has since then lain completely dormant, without as much as a flickers, for almost 85 years. You are now suggesting that we reactivate it and send through almost thirty ships without anyone noticing? That's just not going to happen."

"A point well made." Grant nodded with a faint smile, "I think, perhaps, that O.N.I. is starting to believe too much of its own press. People are going to talk, and then start demanding answers. I can advise HighCom to break with tradition and tell the truth, but I very much doubt they will listen to me."

The Admiral leaned back in her chair and looked around the room. As a Super Carrier, the UNSC _Hugh Dowding _had been built with a fully operational Flag-Bridge, with all the command, control and communications equipment needed to run a fleet. And while slightly more cramped than the Fleet-Masters command centre on the _Renewed Purpose_, the ships newer design meant that some of the equipment, at least, was more advanced. Grant had transferred across the bulk of her command staff, and the room was a hive of activity. But it was the massive holo-emitter that dominated the compartment. Sitting atop of the circular conference table, it could project anything Grant wanted, from the position of the other ships in the fleet relative to the _Dowding_ to an image or piece of film from the ships archive. With the flip of a switch, Grant was able to turn it into a two-way communications device, and call up the ships command-bridge.

"_Admiral_." Commodore Yuri Kerensky, the ships grey-haired commanding officer nodded, his head standing almost two meter tall, "_I trust everything is to your satisfaction, Da?_"

"As ever, Yuri, I am unable to find fault in the performance of your ship or your crew." The Admiral smiled, "How is the supply situation going? I want all ships loaded and ready to go by 0600-hours."

"_Every ship in our fleet is fully loaded and ready to go._" The Commodore reported, and then rolled his eyes, "_The support ships, however, are a different story. Commander Larssonde on the _First, Do No Harm_ is not happy. In fact, she is never happy. I have never met such a miserably woman; including my mother-in-law._"

"She's commanding a hospital ship that will have to tend to a refuge fleet thousands of light years away from the nearest supply base. I think it's perfectly understandable that she wants to make sure that she has all the supplies physically possible." Grant pointed out, "What about the other ships? I did see a report that we were having some trouble with the captains of the civilian ships we appropriated for the mission?"

"_I think perhaps HighCom got a little bored with trying to deal with them. They pulled off the civilian crews and assigned a Warrant Officer and a couple of Rating's to each._" Kerensky chuckled, "_They are all experienced hands, so I foresee no problem from that quarter. The Yard-Boss tells me that all ships will be loaded on time._"

"Good, I want everything checked and double checked." Grant nodded with a smile on her face, "We're going to be a long way from home should we forget anything."

* * *

"If you are just going to sit there and brood all night, I may as well leave." Shaw complained as she did her best to mentally drown out the so-called 'music' that filled the bar, "I have a girlfriend now; I could be in bed, doing wicked and depraved things to her. Things that would make even Starbuck blush, gods rest her soul."

"We both know Layne is working tonight, or you wouldn't be here." Cortana sat looking into her drink as if she was attempting to ascertain the secrets of the universe, "At least you have a sex life."

"So, Ellen Tigh made a pass at John. What's the big deal?" He friend asked, "He didn't take her up on the offer, did he? Not that any self-respecting man would go near her without a class-five hazmat suit..."

"I'm not worried about him taking her up on her offer." Cortana lamented as she downed her drink, "I'm just pissed off that he's still seemingly unaware of how I feel about him."

"John is many things, but he's not unobservant." Shaw shook her head as she lifted her own drink to her lips, "And I've seen him checking you out when he thinks you're not looking."

"Stolen glances don't help when I'm feeling...frustrated." Cortana signalled for the barman to refill her glass, "I swear to whatever gods are listening, I'm going to go crazy if I don't get laid soon!"

Shaw's eyes bulged, but she managed spit most of her drink back into her glass.

"Remember that conversation we had the other day?" She asked, coughing, "Where we talked about what's considered acceptable for public discussion?"

"We're at a bar; the normal rules don't apply." Cortana laughed, "There are exactly two people I feel comfortable talking about these sorts of things with, and Athena's on patrol. I'll be damned if I'm going to my mother for relationship advice."

"Lucky me." Shaw shook her head and grabbed the refilled glass from in front of her companion, "And I think you've had enough. The Admiral was rather clear about not wanting a repeat of what happened the last time you got drunk."

"You bitch!" Cortana complained, "That's the last time I shout you a round!"

**To Be Continued...**


	36. Semper Fidelis

_Ongoing thanks to Zimu Yang for beta-reading._

_Another filler chapter; I wanted to flash out the back story of the Alliance and introduce a couple of supporting characters before the action picked up again._

_Dear MDR: you may not agree with what I did, and that's your prerogative, but it's my story.  
__So stop bitching about it and move on._

**Red In Tooth And Claw  
****Chapter 36: ****_Semper Fidelis_**

"What the frak is _**THAT**_?!" Starbuck asked, pointing out of the view port at a massive ship that had come into view as the shuttle moved around the curvature of the Earth.

It was at least four kilometres long and seemed to be made up of a large slab of armour, with a series of pincer like appendages running down its length on either side. From her vantage point, she could only make out the details on one side: a forest of gantries and scaffolding covered the surface, while massively over-sized thruster assemblies sat at each corner. An equal over-sized engine could be seen at the far end, while a small, pressurised command deck protruded from what Starbuck assumed was the bow.

"That is the _Newport News_: part of the support element assigned to 4th Fleet for the duration of this mission." Baxter smiled, "She's a _Brunel_-class Mobile Dockyard, fresh from the builder's yard. But don't worry; they hand-picked the crew, so they're not all green." She pointed at a second, slightly smaller ship that looked like a slightly squashed oval with a long flight deck on the top and bottom, "That's our ride; the UNSC _Hugh Dowding_, the newest Super-Carrier in the fleet. Three magnetic accelerator cannons in the bow, two plasma torpedo launchers on either flank, nearly a thousand Archer missile pods and five hundred point-defence cannons. Backing that up are twenty meters of Titanium-A armour and energy shields; six squadrons of _Longsword_ fighters and two of _Shortsword_ bombers, along with _Pelican_ and _Albatross_ DropShips, among other support ships. She also carries her own battalion of Marines for planetary combat or boarding actions."

"Sounds just like home." Starbuck smiled, "Just how many ships are there in this fleet?"

"4th Fleet has a standing strength of eighteen ships: one Assault Carrier, one Super Carrier, two Battlecruisers, three Cruisers, four Frigates, five Destroyers and two Prowlers." The O.N.I. officer explained, "But for this mission we're taking along twelve supports ships of various types, including the _Newport News _and a number of bulk cargo ships full of food, medicine and other supplies."

Starbuck watched in awed silence as the shuttle made its way along the length of the super-carrier and came about. A pair of dark, predatory looking fighters took up position on their flanks, escorting them into the cavernous flight deck. There were dull thud as they touched down, then a slight jolt as an automated conveyor pulled them sideways into a waiting airlock. The outer hatch closed silently, the a red light started to flash outside as the bay re-pressurised before turning to a steady green.

"Welcome aboard the _Hughie_." Baxter gestured towards the hatch, "Let's get you settled into your quarters before we go to meet the Admiral, shall we?"

The Mgalekgolo bond-pair fell in behind as the Shock Troopers led the way. Starbuck was used to life on a Battlestar, so she knew roughly what to expect, but she was still surprised at how spacious the hallways were. Then she saw another pair of Mgalekgolo in slightly less ostentatious armour pass by, and realised that she had to adjust her preconceptions to take non-human physiology into account. Even then, she was stunned to see a human in a officer's uniform talking to a reptilian creature with four mandibles that stood taller than even a Spartan in full armour. The pair seemed deeply engrossed in their conversation and paid the pilot no heed as she passed by with her jaw agape.

"The Sangheili are another of our partners in the Alliance of Free Systems." Baxter waved it off as if humans and aliens living and working side by side was perfectly natural, "They, along with the Mgalekgolo, the Huragok and about two thirds of the Unggoy, helped us rebuild after the Covenant War. At first it was a matter of mutual defence, but the Alliance has grown into an economic and political superpower."

"I've met a few Huragok, but..." Starbuck shook her head, "If you had told me, just two years ago, that aliens were real, I'd have thought you'd gone space-happy."

"I can understand why you might feel that way, but I grew up around other species; it's all I've ever known." Baxter shrugged, "The Alliance is like an alloy; we're far stronger together than we would be alone. Some of the advances we've made since the end of the war have only been possible because we've worked together. Speaking purely as a military officer, our ships are faster, more powerful and much more durable than anything we've encountered that wasn't built by the Forerunners themselves." She stopped outside a more human-sized hatch, "The Admiral has decided that, for security reasons, you'll be bunking down with the Marines."

Starbuck looked at a sign above the hatch: it depicted an angel with a sword in one hand and a lightning bolt in the other, followed by the inscription _2nd Battalion, 125th Orbital Strike Division: The Falling Angels. Per Mare, Per Terram, Per Caelum._

Baxter spoke to the Mgalekgolo in their own language, and they nodded before marching away. The hallway on the other side was nearly identical to the ones they had already passed through, but the walls were painted a shade of drab, olive-green compared to the battleship grey they had been. The familiar sound of feet pounding on the deck in unison and voices singing out a marching song brought back memories of Starbuck's time as a flight instructor.

"_DropShip rollin' on down the strip,  
64 Marines on a one-way trip.  
Mission top secret, destination unknown,  
And we don't know if we're ever comin' home._

_Stand up, hook up, shuffle to the door,  
Jump on out and count to four.  
In case my main shouldn't open wide,  
I pack a reserve 'chute by my side._

_If that one should fail me too,  
Then look out ground,  
__Cos' I'm a comin' through!_"

A squad of men and women dressed in PT kit came jogging round the corner, led by a Sergeant in a campaign hat, a half-smoked cigar clenched between his teeth.

"_If I should die in some distant war zone,  
Then box me up and ship me home.  
And as they lay me down to rest,  
Tell my mom I did my best.  
Give all my back-pay to my wife,  
So she'll be happy for the rest of her life.  
Tell my little baby, now don't you cry,  
'Cause your daddy was a Helljumper when he died!_"

"These are your quarters." Baxter stopped outside a hatch marked _Visiting Officer_, "I'll let you get settled, then show you around a little."

The cabin was small but well adorned, with a comfortable looking bunk against the far wall. A mirror was set into the bulkhead above a small desk, but closer inspection of the instructions printed beside it showed that it also served as a communications and entertainment console. Her meagre wardrobe had already been hung up in the closet, while UNSC-issue toilettes were lined up in the head for her use. She was glad to find a still steaming jug of strong, black coffee waiting for her on a small table, along side a bowl of strange looking fruit. The beverage was a bitterer than its Colonial counterpart, but there seemed to be no end to the blends available.

After freshening up, and downing two large cups of the coffee, Starbuck opened the hatch to find her O.N.I. minder waiting for her. It was a short walk down the hallway to a large, utilitarian room that looked like it was a combination mess hall and briefing room. Right then it was full of Marines standing at ease, eyes fixed forward.

"_Hurrah!_ We are at war! War is what Marines pray for!" A man dressed in a UNMC Major's duty uniform marched to the front of a room and started to address the assembled troops, "Word coming down from the Brass is that we've got a new enemy; some race of bio-mechanical bastards who found God out in the ass end of nowhere, and have got themselves a hard-on for killing humans. Well, we handled the Covenant, and we can handle any tick-tock toy soldiers that think they're better than the men and women of my beloved Marine Corps!"

"_HURRAH!_" The assembled marines shouted as one.

"Damn strait! Our orders are simple; seek out the survivors of a lot colony of humans set up by the Forerunners way-back-when, and escort them safely to Alliance space." The Major grinned from ear to ear, "And on the way, pick up some Spartans who managed to get themselves a little lost. We are Marines: we will bring our people home and kill anything that stands in our way. Fleet may think that they're God's own gift to the 'verse, but we all know that wars are really won by boots on the ground. Boots warn by Orbital Drop Shock Troopers! _Semper Fi!_"

"_SEMPER FI! SEMPER FI!_" The marines chanted, "_MARINE CORPS WAY IS DO OR DIE!_"

"_Semper Fi_?" Starbuck asked from her place at the back of the room.

"It's short for _Semper Fidelis,_ the Marine Corps motto: it means '_Always Faithful_' in an old Earth language called Latin." Baxter explained, "The UNMC was created when the United Nations amalgamated the old United States Marine Corps and the British Royal Marines after the Rainforest Wars almost five hundred years ago, and they see themselves as carrying on the traditions of both."

"Briefing in the wardroom at 1900-hours for company and platoon commanders." The Major ordered, "Battalion, DIS-MISSED!"

The assembled marines came sharply to attention, then scatted, many coalescing into small groups to discuss what they had been told. The major looked over at Baxter and nodded, crossing the distance between them with long, easy strides. Up close Starbuck could see that he was much older than he sounded, with greying hair and a faint scar on the right side of his face. For some reason, he reminded her of Admiral Adama.

"For some reason, I'm not surprised to find that you're mixed up in all of this." He looked sternly at Baxter, then his face softened, and he enveloped her in a bear hug and lifted her clear up off of the deck, "It's good to see you again, Toni my girl!"

"Good to see you too, Uncle Steve!" Baxter sounded more like a giddy school girl than an intelligence officer, "Dad sends his love, and told me to remind you that he opted into the reserve program if you ever find yourself short of a good NCO."

"He always was a crazy bastard, even back when he was my squad leader." The marine put her down and stepped back, "I can't even count the number of times he saved my ass."

"Oh, I'm sure he remembers." Baxter composed herself, "This is Captain Kara Thrace of the Colonial Fleet. Captain Thrace, this is Major Steve Smith of the United Nations Marine Corps."

"So, you're the one I've been hearing so much about on the grape vines?" Smith looked at Starbuck as he pulled a cigar with its end already cut off from his shirt pocket, "The one who's responsible for all this?"

"I'm as surprised as anyone." Starbuck admitted as she looked at the cigar longingly, "I still don't understand how I got here."

"What do you know? A pilot who's willing to admit that they don't know everything." Smith held out the cigar and offered it, "You smoke?"

"Every chance I get." Starbuck took the offering and ran her nose along it, "Bit different to what we have back home."

"They're called _Sweet Williams_; kind of the unofficial cigar of Space Command." The marine officer produced a book of matches from another pocket and struck one, "They cost a little more, but I think they're worth it."

Starbuck took a long drag on the cigar and her eyes rolled back in her head, "Gods, I think I'm in love..."

"Yeah, they have that affect on some people." Smith chuckled, then turned back to Baxter, "Who's running the detail? I'm sure I saw a report, but I never was too fond of paper work."

"Sergeant Raymond and Corporal Torres." She explained, "They've both worked with O.N.I. in the past, so they know what's expected of them."

"Good choice: they're both good Marines." It was a simple statement of fact, but from Smith, there was no high praise, "You'd better take our 'guest' here up to the Flag Deck; I hear the Admiral's growing impatient to get this show on the road."

**To Be Continued...**


	37. Rubicon

_Ongoing thanks to Zimu Yang for beta-reading._

_The Final Five are something RDM came up with at the last moment to fill a gaping plot-hole,  
__and as such I have chosen to ignore them as they don't fit my story as I have it mapped out.  
__This is Fan-Fiction: I'm allowed to do things like that._

**Red In Tooth And Claw  
****Chapter 37: ****Rubicon**

"Silat?" The Master Chief asked from the doorway of the small gym he had set up in a disused maintenance bay.

"It's more of a fusion of Silat and Krav Maga. You'd be surprised at some of the things they programmed me with that I decided to keep." Cortana explained as she executed a perfect spinning kick against the heavy punching bag, rattling the chains that secured it to the ceiling and deck, "Anyway, I think it's good for a girl to know how to defend herself: if word ever got out about what I really am, then you can bet that there'd be no shortage of people in this fleet who'd want to come after me."

"You're just being paranoid." The Spartan smirked slightly as he made his way across the room, the hatch swing shut behind him, "Anyone who came after you would have to get past me." He paused slightly, "And the others."

"Thanks, but you're not always around." Cortana lay into the punch-bag with a series of lightning fast jabs, followed by a sharp elbow and knee combo that would have disabled any human attacker, "Anyway, I'm human, well, human-like now: I need to stay in shape."

"If your mother's work up on your metabolism is anything to go by, that shouldn't be a problem." The Master Chief gripped the bag tightly and held it in place, "And good against a bag is one thing. Good against an attacker is another."

"Really?" Cortana looked at him with a sly smile, then sent a right jab directly at his face.

The Spartan reactions were as fast as ever, but he managed to restrain himself, and pulled her round into a secure hold that pressed her back up against his chest rather without doing any damage. Cortana gasped, then narrowed her eyes as she pulled her left arm as far forward as she could. Her elbow shot backwards into his solar plexus like a piston while her foot was already stamping down on the inside of the Chief's left foot as hard as she could. It was an old and well known series of moves, and by the time her left fist came racing up towards his nose, the Chief was ready for her. Grabbing her wrist with his free hand, he deftly side-stepped to avoid her next attack and dropped down onto one knee. Caught off balance, Cortana fell backwards, landing on the padded deck with a loud thump.

"SING: Solar-plexus, Instep, Nose and Groin." His face was only inches from hers, and he could feel the warmth of her body against his own, "I would have thought you'd be more original than that."

"I still got in two good hits." Cortana panted, trying to get her breath back as she looked up into his deep, icy-blue eyes, "And it's not like I ever really stood a chance against you: Cylon or not, I'm nowhere near as fast as a Spartan. I suppose I should be glad you pulled your punches."

"I would never hurt you." The words were out of the Chief's mouth before he realised that he meant them on more than one level. Lowering his head the last few, crucial inches, he kissed her deeply on the lips as he let go of her hands.

Cortana's eyes went wide with shock, then rolled back in her head as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held him close.

* * *

"How in the hell did it get so bad without anyone noticing?" Adama asked, looking at the ultrasound images on his desk; each one showed a section of the _Galactica_ that had become riddled with small cracks and fissures caused by stress and fatigue over her long and somewhat eventful life.

"It was deep in her bones; they must have cut a few corners when they built her." Tyrol shook his head, "We're just lucky they found it in time. As it is, I don't understand how they found it, let alone fixed it on a molecular level."

"They're Huragok; it's what they do, what they were created for." Halsey sat in a chair to one side of the Admiral's desk with a smile on her face, "Show them something that's broken, and they want to take it apart and fix it. Show them something they've never seen before, and they take it apart to see how it works, then put it back together again, exactly as it was. They can also recreate anything they've ever examined, right down to the smallest imperfection."

"I thought you were keeping them under observation?" Adama asked, "I never said anything about giving them free reign over my ship."

"They're naturally curios and you can't argue with what they've done." The scientist laughed, "From what you yourself have told me, this ship is in better condition now than it has been for years." She cocked her head to one side, "Anyway, I thought it best to keep them occupied." She looked at Tyrol, "How many Huragok are working on your flight deck?"

"Six, last time I looked." the crew-chief blinked, "Why?"

"Because we only brought seven up from the Algae Planet, and there are three working on repairing damage in the CIC, with others working across the ship." Adama's eyes narrowed "They're breeding?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes; they are reproducing." Halsey took off her glasses and started to clean the lenses on the sleeve of her lab coat, "From what I understand of their, well, biology is the closest word, if there are sufficient raw materials, two or more Huragok can build a new one from scratch. The offspring has all the knowledge of its parents, but develop their own personalities. If I had to guess, I'd say they saw the amount of work that needed doing and decided they needed help."

"I..." The Admiral started to say something then remembered that Tyrol was in the room. As loyal and trustworthy as he had proven to be since the first Cylon attack, he wasn't cleared to know the 'truth', "Doctor, if you would be so kind as to ask them to avoid further, additions to their number, at least for the time being? Some of my people are finding it hard enough to deal with the concept of non-human intelligent life without feeling like the ship is about to be over run by floating gas-bags with tentacles. Cottle has reported an increase in people requesting sleeping pills because they're suffering from nightmares."

"I blame those Virgon-style animated films that were all the rage a few years back." Tyrol smiled and shook his head, "I don't know what it is about those guys and tentacles."

"I'll have Lucy talk to them." Halsey nodded, "I don't know why, maybe it's because she uses it herself, but she's picked up their sign-language faster and more fluently than any of us."

"Thank you." Adama looked at Tyrol, "That'll be all, Chief."

"Sir." The NCO nodded and left the cabin, shutting the hatch on his way out.

"I want you to talk to Silent Contemplation: he's supposed to be working on a way to improve the range and accuracy of our jump-drives." Adama turned to his one remaining guest once he was sure they couldn't be overheard, "But I've not heard anything new about it in weeks, and I want to know just what he's been up to."

"You could ask him yourself." Halsey suggested, "But then you'd have to get over your prejudice towards A.I.'s for all of five minutes..."

"I don't expect you to understand how we feel about A.I,'s: to you they've only ever been useful tools." The Admiral grunted, "Perhaps, if things had been different, we'd feel the same. But I've spent almost my entire life under the threat of attack by Cylons, and I will never fully trust them."

"Not even Lieutenant Agathon?" Halsey asked, "I would have thought that she would have proved herself to you by now?"

"My wife's father had a dog named Sam; an animal he'd raised from a pup. One day, out of the blue, the dog turned and bit him." Adama sat back his his chair, a thoughtful look on his face, "It wasn't anything serious, but he still took the dog to the vet and had it put down. Afterwards, I asked him why he'd gone to such extremes after something that he'd fixed with a sticking plaster. He looked me in the eye and said '_the trust was gone_'. He loved that dog like it was one of the family, but once it had proven it could turn on him once, he knew he could never fully trust it again. Sharon turned on her own kind because of an emotional attachment to Helo." He frowned, "How do I know that, somewhere down the line, she won't change her mind and fall out of love with him?"

"One of Earth's greatest ever poets once wrote '_love makes fools of us all_'." Halsey smiled, "I'm not going to claim to be an expert on love, as it's not something I've ever had much time for. For me, my work always came first. But as a woman, I can tell you this: Sharon Agathon will never do anything to hurt or endanger her daughter. While Hera is on this ship, you never have to worry about her mother's loyalty."

* * *

"John, wait!" Cortana pushed the Master Chief away and rolled over onto her side, "We just need to...to just slow down a little here and take a moment here."

The Spartan looked at her with a slightly confused look on his face.

"It's not that I don't want to, it's just..." Cortana blushed as she sat up and pulled her top back down, "I'd rather my first time wasn't on a musty old exercise mat in a room that reeks of disinfectant and sweat. I know you probably don't understand; I'm not sure I do myself, but I want it to be something more meaningful. I'm not asking for a four-poster bed and rose petals: just something a little more comfortable, and a little less public."

"I understand." The Master Chief smiled softly as he brushed a few stray strands of hair out of her face, "We'll play it slow, if that's what you want."

* * *

"_All ships in position and report ready to go_." Commodore Kerensky's voiced echoed off of the armoured bulkheads, "_Skies are clear of all other traffic._"

"Attention all hands; we are a go for portal activation." Grant announced over the ships intercom, "Dr. Spencer, the floor is yours."

"Voi control reports ready to activate the portal." The scientist was sat at one of the main consoles, "Reverse coordinates set for last transition, so with any luck, we should come out in orbit of the planet the Colonial fleet was orbiting when Captain Thrace came through. We know their intended course, and roughly how far they could have gotten, so it shouldn't be too hard to track them down."

"You leave the navigation to me," The Admiral chuckled, "and I'll leave the science to you."

"Just what I've always wanted; promises of non-interference from the military." Spencer laughed, "Power now at optimum levels. The _Shadow Of The Night_ reports ready for the initial transition, relay drone prepared for the return run." His hand moved across the controls with an ease born of years of practice, "Activating portal..._Now!_"

Far below the orbiting fleet, ancient systems came to life, and the massive structure, 100-km across, built under the cost of East Africa came to life. Massive towers rose up out of the ground as an electrical storm formed, stretching over Voi, New Mombasa and beyond. Lightning arched between the towers as they reached their zenith and locked into place then a pillar of blinding white light erupted from the very centre of the artefact. There was a bright flash, followed by a thunderclap that shattered windows hundreds of miles away as a glowing blue sphere of rippling energy formed in the air.

"We have a portal!" Spencer reported jubilantly, "All readings are in the Green: we are good to go.

"My compliments to Mr. Von Regenskirch." Grant sat back in her command chair, "He may proceed."

The Prowler _Shadow Of The Night_ moved forward, cautiously at first, but with increasing speed. The surface of the sphere seemed to ripple as the ship passed through the portal. There was a period of tense silence on every ship in the assembled fleet, and on the planet below, as they awaited news from the scout ship. On the flag-bridge of the _Dowding_, all eyes were on Spencer.

"We have a contact." He reported, leaning over his screen, "It's the drone!" He jumped to his feet and punched the air excitedly, "We did it! The _Shadow Of The Night_ has arrived at the intended coordinates and reports no contacts!"

"All hands, this is the Admiral: all are systems Go!" Grant's voice sounded out across every intercom in the fleet, "Next stop, the Sagittarius arm, and glory!"

**To Be Continued...**


	38. Power Plays

_Ongoing thanks to Zimu Yang for beta-reading  
__The song Cortana plays is from the _Halo 3: ODST_ trailer  
__Dragon Cat: I though it would be a little too obvious if I'd called him Alexander Kerensky,  
__but yeah, the old wolf lives ;)_

**Red In Tooth And Claw  
****Chapter 38: Power Plays**

"I'm sorry if this is a bad time," The voice was calm and level, "but we need to talk."

The Master Chief was out of bed and rolling across the floor before his eyes had opened. Jumping to his feet behind the sofa, he fell into a fighting stance and surveyed the room for threats as Cortana grabbed the sheet and pulled it up to her chin, silently cursing that she still wasn't allowed to have a side-arm of her own. A Six stood in by the hatch with her hands on her hips, dressed in one of their signature slinky red dresses and wearing a somewhat amused smile on her face.

"Well, that was somewhat impressive." She winked at the naked Spartan, "But I assure you I mean you no harm. I only assumed this form because I knew you'd recognise it. And if I did want to hurt you or anyone else on this ship, there's nothing either of you could do to stop me."

"Explain." The Chief's voice was cold as ice.

"We met before on New Caprica. I told you to take the child Hera with you, because she would be important to what is yet to come. All this has happened before, and will happen again; humanity is only playing its part in the cycle." The woman remained unmoving, "But the time will come when you will both face a choice that could affect the fate of the galaxy. I can not tell you which course of action to take, only that events have already been set in motion."

"Who...or rather, 'what', are you?" Cortana asked.

"I am a representative of... an interested third party." The Six smiled as her form morphed to that of Captain Jacob Keyes, pipe clenched in his rock-hard jaw, "But this form is just an illusion; a projection created within your minds." It morphed again, becoming the Arbiter, complete with low, growling voice, "I can become anyone or anything you have ever encountered, or can imagine." It returned to its original form, but with the red dress now black, "But I like this form; it's distinctive, so you're hardly going to mistake me for a member of the ships crew."

"You're still not telling us much." John grunted, his mind racing as he attempted to assimilate the new information.

"I have told you all I can, for now." Six winked, "Be seeing you."

With that she faded into nothing.

* * *

Starbuck pulled the straps holding her in place as tight as they would go as the glowing portal grew larger and larger in the main view screen. She'd been told that passing through from one end to the other was all but instantaneous and completely safe, but she wasn't one to take a stranger's word for it. After all, the last time she'd passed through the vortex it had knocked her out and all but destroyed her _Viper_. If it wasn't for the auto-eject system, she would have been spread out across half of central Africa, like the rest of the debris.

"Thirty seconds to transition." The ships Flag-Lieutenant reported, "All stations report ready."

The screen showed Destroyers, Frigates and Cruisers vanishing into the Portal, followed by the imposing, inhuman mass of the _Renewed Purpose_. The bight light filled the screen, and Starbuck repressed the urge to shield her eyes as the countdown reached zero. There was a flash, and then the blue-green orb that was Earth was replaced by the swirling cloudscape of the gas giant she had been flying patrol over when she had lost contact with the _Galactica_.

"All stations report in." Admiral Grant ordered, "Inform the CAG I want a double CAP until we get our bearings. All ships are to remain at high alert until further notice. Tell Commander di Milo that I want to know as soon as his astronomers have a confirmed fix on our position. Have the techies on the _Alan Turing_ deploy their sensors. I want them to scan for any traces of the ships we're looking for."

A chorus of "Aye-Aye's" followed as the crew went about their assigned tasks.

"Breath, Captain, breath." Baxter's hand appeared on Starbuck's shoulder, "We still have a long road ahead of us."

* * *

"You're sure?" Halsey was standing in the former wardroom, talking to an armoured Spartan when Adama entered the former pilot's ready room. Despite his best efforts, he still couldn't tell them apart if he couldn't see their faces.

"I had the night watch. He wasn't in his bunk, and the door to her quarters was locked from the inside." The Spartan nodded, and the Admiral recognised Kelly's voice, "While on its own that means nothing, I did hear...things, as I made my way past on my rounds."

"Well, I knew it was only a matter of time." Halsey nodded, "Okay, thank you for letting me know. But keep it to yourself, okay? There's little enough privacy on this ship as it is."

"Ma'am." Kelly nodded politely and walked off.

"Trouble?" The Admiral asked, equal parts curious and worried.

"No, nothing major." Halsey shook her head, unconcerned, "Cortana and John have started sleeping together, but I was expecting it sooner rather than later.

"I see." Adama paused for a moment, "I do hope that's not why you wanted to see me?"

"My daughter's sex life is not something I would normally consider keeping you up to date on." The scientist glared at him over the tops of her glasses, looking more like a school teacher talking to a troublesome pupil, "No, I wanted to let you know that I spoke with Silent Contemplation, and he has asked the Huragok to refrain from increasing their number any further without your express permission. They apologised, saying that they felt they needed the extra help to deal with the work load."

"Good." Adama nodded, "Call me old fashioned, but I do like to at least pretend that I still command this ship."

"That's another thing I needed to talk to you about." Halsey looked round to make sure that they were alone, and that Kelly had closed the hatch on her way out, "I had a visit from your Vice President last night."

"Tom Zarek." The words were spat rather than spoken, "What did he want?"

"I'm no expert on your government and how it operates, but I'm no stranger to power games. I believe that he's building up his power base as a prelude to retaking the Presidency." Halsey frowned, "I don't know the how or when, only that he asked a lot of questions about how my government might react to various governments your people might have when we finally reach UN controlled space."

"Thank you for letting me know. I'll have to keep a closer eye on him from now on." Adama turned to leave, then stopped and looked back over his shoulder, a slightly confused expression on his face, "You didn't have to tell me; you could have let him play his hand and negotiated with whomever was left standing when the dust settled. Why didn't you?"

" The universe is run by the complex interweaving of three elements: energy, matter, and _enlightened self_-_interest._" Halsey shrugged slightly, "I'm many things, Admiral, but I am a realist, and a pragmatist: it didn't take me long to work out that the best chance this fleet, and my Spartans, have of reaching Earth is if you are in command of this ship, and Laura Roslin is President. Beyond that I have no interest in your society's internal politics."

* * *

Most of the _Galactica's_ crew was still on duty, so the bar was almost empty, and no one commented as Cortana made her way over to the beaten up old piano in one corner. She tapped the keys a few times to get a feel for them, then stretched her fingers and started to play a slow, mournful tune.

"_Gafflwn Dihenydd O'r fuddugol yn wiriol sydd, Ni fydd neb yn ein drechu, Falch ydy ni I drochu, Traed o flaen I'r Annwn, mewn y gwybodaeth fe godwn ni._"

"Wow!" Shaw stood leaning against a support beam, "That was beautiful."

"It's from the ODST battle-hymn; _We cheat Death from his rightful victory. No one can defeat us, we are glad to plunge feet first into Annwn, in the knowledge that we will rise_. But it's traditionally sung in its original Welsh, and I have to agree it does sound better that way." Cortana smiled and tapped the side of her head, "You'd be surprised at what I've still got rattling around up here."

"Annwn?" Shaw still looked confused.

"It's the Celtic other-world where warriors who die bravely in battle go while they wait to be reborn. Kind of like the Viking's Valhalla." Cortana explained, "I don't know if your people have anything similar."

"Well, that explains that." Shaw walked over and sat down in a nearby chair, "But doesn't explain why you've been walking around all day looking alternatively like you just won the Picon Lottery, or like someone just run over your dog."

"The second one is...too complicated to go into right now. At least, not until I've worked it out myself." Cortana looked around to make sure no one was listening in, "As for the smile, well, let's just say that there has been a definite improvement in my relationship with John."

"So, the Caveman finally made his move then, huh?" Shaw chuckled as she raised an empty shot-glass in mock salute, "Today you are a woman! Just don't expect me to agree to any double-dates; as much as I like him, he's not much of a conversationalist."

* * *

"We've identified enough quasars to confirm our relative position; we're right where we wanted to be." Dr Spencer handed over a print off, "Given the course Captain Thrace says her fleet was following, and a rough estimate of how far they could have travelled since she passed through the portal, I think our best bet is to try and cut them off here." He type a command into the main holo-emitter and a swirling cloud of gas and dust appeared in the air, "NGC 2440; a planetary nebular some 4,000 light years from Sol. It's an obvious navigational marker for anyone headed that way, so I think it's safe to assume they'll pass by there."

"Sounds reasonable." Grant nodded, then turned to her guest, "Well?"

"I was only a pilot, but it does sound right." Starbuck nodded, "They should pass close buy that way."

"That's good enough for me." The Admiral placed her hands on the desk, "Inform the Commodore; we have our next destination."

**To Be Continued...**

As requested:  
Huragok = Engineers  
Mgalekgolo = Hunters  
Sangheili = Elites  
Unggoy = Grunts  
Jiralhanae = Brutes  
San 'Shyuum = Prophets  
Yanme = Drones  
Kig-Yar = Jackals


	39. Storm'd At With Shot And Shell

_Ongoing thanks to Zimu Yang for beta-reading_

**Red In Tooth And Claw  
****Chapter 39: Storm'd At With Shot And Shell**

"The_ Hugh Dowding, Renewed Purpose, Continuation Of Politics,_ _Charge Of The Light Brigade_,_ Lair Of The Mighty Wyvern, Clarion's Call,_ _War To The Hilt, Advance To Contact, Shadow Of The Night_ and the _Skinwalker_ will make a slipstream jump to the nebula." Grant instructed, highlighting the named ships in blue, "If the Colonials are there, we will attempt to make peaceful contact and render what aid we can before escorting them back to the Gas Giant." Another command was typed, and another list of names turned red, "The _On Your Shield Or With It, Cambria's Call,_ _William Clark_, _Caledfwlch_,_ Men of Harlech_, _Heart Of Oak_ and _Sword Of_ _Fury_ will stay here guarding the support ships with Captain Chen in command. If it is some overly-elaborate trap and they don't hear back from us within forty-eight hours, her orders are to return through the portal to Earth and alert HighCom so they can avenge us." She shrugged, "If they're not there, then we'll have the _Turing_ deploy her sensor nets again and see if we can pick up a trail we can follow."

A hushed silence filled the briefing room as the senior officers of the fleet examined the data before them. Taking a fleet into an unknown situation was always risky to say the best, but this was unlike anything they had trained for - limited knowledge of enemy capabilities and intent, thousands of light years from home with no readily available support to call up or home to fall back to. Many felt daunted by the prospect, but others were exhilarated at the prospect of testing themselves against the unknown.

"Questions?" The Admiral asked the room, but no one spoke up, "Good, then get back to your ships; we go within the hour."

* * *

"We're only one jump away from the nebula." Admiral Adama relaxed in his chair, a glass of ambrosia in his hand, "You really think we're going to find another clue on the road to Earth?"

"I was under the impression that we know where Earth is?" President Roslin asked as she rubbed her eyes, trying to ease the headache that had plagued her since the Quorum meeting earlier that day, "I thought Silent Contemplation gave us the exact coordinates?"

"Yes, but I don't trust him." Adama shook his head, "He's admitted that he's the same type of A.I. as Guilty Spark, and we all know what he did. No, we can use the information he gave us as a guide, but I'd much rather we found our own way."

"I can't fault your logic." Roslin admitted, "But we have to bee seen to be getting closer to Earth if I'm going to bring more of the Quorum around to my side and away from Zarek."

"This is why I prefer war to politics." The Admiral chuckled, "At least I'm allowed to shoot my enemies."

"Something you've said more than once." The President pointed out, "But the fact remains we need to been seen to be making progress or Zarek will start to imply that we're not making any."

* * *

"So you and John." Dr Halsey sat at one of the tables in the old ready room, "Is this a new development, or have you been sleeping with him since before my arrival?"

"Mother!" Cortana protested, looking around to make sure the room was otherwise deserted, "That's none of your concern!"

"My only daughter is sleeping with a man almost twice her age; someone not known for long-term relationships." Halsey smiled, "Call it a mother's prerogative to be at least a little worried."

"You've known me other for less than six months!" Cortana countered, "I think it's a bit early in our relationship for you to be playing the over-protective parent."

"Just be careful, okay?" Halsey grinned as she took a sip of her hot chocolate, "I'm not ready to be a grandmother yet..."

"_**MOTHER!**_" Cortana almost fell out of her chair, "Not that it's any of you businesses, but Doc Cottle set me up with a contraceptive implant not long after I... arrived on-ship. At my own request, I might add."

"That's good to know." Halsey nodded, "I remember what it's like, falling in love for the first time..." Cortana started to interrupt, but was silenced by a wave of the scientists hand, "I'm you, or rather, you're me, remember? We're still more alike then either of us would care to admit. So I have a good idea what's running through your head right now."

"And that would be?" Her daughter asked.

"If John feels about you the same way you feel about him." Halsey grinned, "Only a fool, or Ellen Tigh, would think otherwise."

"Don't even mention that woman..." Cortana started, but was cut off by a klaxon warning of an impending FTL-jump.

The far end of the room seemed to stretch even further away, as if the universe was being pulled apart like a giant rubber band, then there was a snap as it returned to normal, followed by an almost overwhelming sense of vertigo as every light and system on the Battlestar started to flash on and off.

"Well," Halsey mused as the strobe-effect lit her face, "this can't be good..."

* * *

"Oh frak me!" Geata's eyes went wide as he looked at the intermittent reading on the main DRADIS screen, "Reading at least twelve, maybe fifteen new contacts: there's so much interference out there it's hard to tell."

"It's a trap!" Tigh hissed through clenched teeth, "The Cylons sold us down the river..."

"Even they seem affected." Adama shook his head, "No, this is something else."

"Hold on." Geata looked puzzled, "Receiving IFF codas." The blips on the screen changed from the white of unknown to the red of hostile, "Hostile contacts! Incoming _Raiders_ and missiles!"

"Half the ships in the fleet are reporting power outages, the other half have gone completely dark!" The Admiral slammed his fist down on the main plotting table hard enough to crack the protective covering, "I can't believe this!" He span around, his despair turning to resolve, "Launch ever fighter we have: anything that'll fly! And signal the other ships, anyone with power, to spin up their FTL's and jump out again as quickly as they can. This may well be our last stand, but by the Gods we will make the Cylons pay dearly for their victory!"

"I'm picking up something else; massive power surge off the port-bow." Geata announced, "It's like nothing I've ever seen...NEW CONTACTS!"

* * *

"Two groups of contacts: one to port, the other to starboard." the young Lieutenant at the flag-bridge's tactical station yelled a warning, her eyes fixed on her display, "IFF on the smaller group says hostile... they're attacking the other ships...IFF says they're friendly... nukes detected!"

"_**ALL GUNS! ALL FORWARD BATTERIES!**_" Admiral Grant yelled, fire burning brightly in her eyes as she jumped to her feet and pointed at the armada of Base Ships displayed in the holo-emitter, "_**OPEN FIRE!**_"

* * *

Space lit up like the fires of hell as the _Renewed Purpose, Continuation Of Politics_ and the _Charge Of The Light Brigade_ unleashed the full fury of their main guns. The energy projectors had been designed for planetary bombardment, and were normally next to useless in the ever changing environment that was ship-to-ship combat. But the Cylon ships were hardly moving, even by their own standards, as they unleashed wave after wave of missiles and _Raiders_ against the _Galactica_ and her consorts. Beams of raw destructive energy capable of levelling mountains or vaporising oceans crossed the distance between the two forces almost instantaneously and struck like the wrath of an angry god. Armour designed to withstand kiloton-level contact nukes offered about as much resistance as wet tissue paper, and the first salvo bisected a trio of Loyalist Base Ships and continued on to cripple two more.

Behind this came a volley of plasma-torpedoes and MAC rounds ahead of the charging fleet. The wave of destruction fell upon the Cylon fleet, ripping through their lines even as they tried to react to the first hammer blow. One Base Ship, struck by a trio of MAC rounds from the _Clarion's Call_, disintegrated as her back was broken, secondary explosions rippling out along her arms. The Alliance fleet split into three, with the lighter units moving above and below the plane of attack used by the three biggest ships, swarms of fighters diving upon the besieged refuge fleet. _Seraph_ and _Longsword_ fighters fell upon the Cylon _Raiders,_ targeting anything not broadcasting the correct IFF code. Their much heavier weapons reduced the _Raiders_ to clouds of expanding debris with ease, while their much thicker armour compared to any Cylon or Colonial vessel of similar size made them all but invulnerable. Only the anti-ship missiles and contact nukes were a threat, but most of them had been expended in the initial attack on the _Galactica_ and the ships under her protection.

One of the Loyalist _Raiders_, its weapons depleted, looped around and dove towards _Colonial One_ at maximum speed, intending to ram the former liner in a suicidal attack. Accelerating at a rate no human could have withstood, it dodged the sparse fire the _Galactica_ could bring to bare in defence of the presidential transport, and for a second it looked like it might succeed. Then, engines pushed well beyond safe levels, the Destroyer _Advance To Contact_ put itself between the hunter and its pray. Carrying too much momentum, and with no time to dodge, the kamikaze Raider struck the destroyer's shields with the equivalent force of a tactical nuclear weapon. The protective screen turned almost opaque as it struggled to dissipate the blow, but it held. Short-lived flames enveloped the ship, but failed to reach its hull.

Other _Raiders_ flew among the Colonial fleet, skimming the hulls of the civilian ships, their cannons doing what damage they could. This offered them protection from the larger Alliance fighters, but it limited their ability to dodge fire from the Colonial _Vipers_. The dog-fight only intensified as the smaller Alliance warships added their point-defence weapons to the fray, 50mm rounds snapping wings off of _Raiders_ with ease, while plasma blasts melted high-tensile alloys like butter. Chains of explosions rippled along the sides of the civilian ships like fireworks.

But the defenders didn't have it all their own way; the Loyalist _Raider's_ soon discovered that the Alliance fighter's lacked the protective shields of the larger ships, and started mounting kamikaze attacks on them. One _Longsword_ pilot managed to swerve at the last moment, avoiding a head-on collision, but the glancing blow tore off the fighter's starboard wing and sent it tumbling out of control. Left with no other option, the crew ejected, knowing that they had better odds of survival in the midst of the battle than staying with their doomed craft. Wounded and beyond any intelligent control, the stricken _Longsword_ tumbled on, her damaged engines and thrusters firing at random, until she struck the _Adriatic_ amidships, ripping a huge hole in the transports side.

But it was fast becoming a one-sided battle. Completely routed, unable to inflict any meaningful damage on the newly arrived ships and now coming under sustained and crippling attack from ships the likes of which they had never seen, the Cylons jumped out before they could be totally overrun and annihilated.

**To Be Continued...**


	40. Point Of Convergence

_Ongoing thanks to Zimu Yang for beta-reading_

**Red In Tooth And Claw  
****Chapter 40: Point Of Convergence**

The only sound in the CIC was the clang of the DRADIS. All eyes were fixed on the screen and the cluster of 'UNKNOWN CONTACT' icons on the screen. They flickered for a second, then names started to appear as IFF beacons were switched over to Colonial frequencies: _Hugh Dowding, Renewed Purpose, Continuation Of Politics,_ _Charge Of The Light Brigade, Lair Of The Mighty Wyvern, Clarion's Call,_ _War To The Hilt _and_ Advance To Contact. _There was a momentary pause then two more contacts solidified: _Shadow Of The Night _and _Skinwalker_.

"I recognise those." Cortana looked at the main DRADIS screen, "The _War To The Hilt _and_ Advance To Contact_ are UNSC Destroyers. The _Lair Of The Mighty Wyvern _is a _Marathon_ class cruiser." She turned to face the others, "They're Earth ships."

"I never take anything at face value; that's how I've survived as long as I have." Her mother shook her head and motioned towards one of the radios, "May I?"

"Be my guest." The Admiral handed it over.

"This is Charlie Hotel 4695, security authorization code 409871." Halsey spoke slowly and clearly into the microphone, "Confirm and authenticate."

"_This is Mike Golf 24472, authorization code 982164._" A woman's voice responded, "_Code logged and confirmed, Dr Halsey._"

"Her code is legitimate." Cortana nodded, "God only know how out of date, but legitimate."

"Mike Golf, this is Charlie Hotel: code logged but unable to authenticate." Halsey paused for a moment, "Request secondary authorization code."

"_I have something I believe belongs to you._" The stranger responded followed by a moment of silence.

"_Galactica-Actual, this is Starbuck._" A voice no one in the CIC had ever expected to hear again came over the wireless, "_So, you guys miss me or what?_"

"Kara?" Adama gasped, unable to believe what he'd heard.

"_Perhaps we could continue this discussion face to face?_" The first voice asked, "_Your place or mine?_"

* * *

"This is _**UNACCEPTABLE!**_" Caprica Six stood seething, her traditional slinky red dress replaced with a similar military tunic and skirt, while her long blond hair was pulled back into a tight bun, "Your orders were to annihilate the humans and the traitors. Not to run at the first time of trouble!"

"I sent in all my ships, all my _Raiders_." D'Anna Biers sat hunched over the table before her leader, visibly shaken, her uniform ripped and bloodstained where a piece of shrapnel had punctured her left lung during the battle and had been hastily patched up, "They had energy weapons and defensive shielding unlike anything we've ever seen. And me? What did I have?"

"A sacred duty to seek retribution for the sins they committed against us. Against our God!" Six leaned forward and place a pistol on the table, "Perhaps you'd like to forgo the formalities of an official court-martial?"

Without another word Six left the room and closed the door. The other senior officers in her command staff stood silently at attention, all with worried expressions on their faces, and each one flinched visibly when a single gunshot broke the silence.

"Have the Resection Ship purge her from the buffers." Six ordered the gold Centurion that acted as her personal bodyguard, "No sense wasting a good body on a failed mind."

"By Your Command." the metallic soldier acknowledged.

"I know the rest of you are worried." Six started to pace back and forth, addressing the room, "The _Galactica_ and Cavil's forces have evidently met up with the Thirteenth Tribe. But that changes nothing!" She snapped, her cold, hard eyes surveying her subordinates for any sign of dissent, "A member of the Thirteenth Tribe destroyed the body of our God, but his spirit demands that they all pay the price for their transgressions. We will find the Holy Rings, and we will light them! Our God's vengeance will sweep across the galaxy like a sword, cutting down those who are unworthy. Only those of us who have remained loyal and true will be saved!"

"By Your Command!" The others started to chant, "By Your Command! By Your Command! By Your Command!"

* * *

"I said we needed to be seen to be making progress." President Roslin lent over and whispered into Adama's ear, "This is a little bit over the top, don't you think?"

"I've never been one who believed in half-measures." The Admiral replied, perfectly deadpan, "I just wish I could have seen the look on Tom Zarek's face when he found out the ship had sailed."

"Yes, that would have been nice." Roslin savoured the mental image, "But he's had his time in the sun." She looked around at the assembled welcoming committee, "I just wish we had more room."

The inner airlock was full to bursting point: along with the President and the Admiral were Colonel Tigh, Apollo, Helo, Athena, Shaw and Anders, while Dr. Halsey, Chief Mendez, Cortana, the Master Chief and the other Spartans stood to the other side. Roslin noticed with a hint of amusement that Cortana's hand had shifted until it was holding the Master Chief's. Cavil and Boomer stood on the far side of the Spartans, a reminder to the Colonials that he still held more than one card.

There was a thud as the universal docking port clamped onto the transport sent over from the _Dowding_, then the pumps got to work equalising the pressure before the outer hatch swung open. From her position in the middle of the room, it was impossible for Roslin to see through the small window into the next chamber, but the marines acting as official honour guard come sharply to attention moments before the inner hatch swung open. First to step through were two figures dressed head to toe in black armour, their faces hidden behind dark visors. Each cradled a strange looking rifle in their arms, and had an over-sized pistol strapped to their right hip. They seemed to scan the room for any threats, pausing slightly on the assembled Spartans then they stepped out of the way, taking up position on either side of the hatch. The man who stepped through next was dressed in the same dark armour, but without the helmet: hard, flint-grey eyes double checked what the first two solders had reported, then nodded to someone behind.

By contrast, the woman who followed was shorter, maybe an inch taller than Roslin, and slender to the point of being almost petite. The immaculate white dress uniform she wore was heavy in gold braid, and made her look like she belonged on a recruiting poster. But that was until you saw the look in her eyes and the impressive collection of ribbons over her right breast; she was someone who had seen and done her fair share of killing, and then some. She took off her cap, showing short, grey hair with a few streaks of black around the temples. A faint scar ran along her forehead just below the hairline, a silent but ever present testament to how one of the ribbons had been won. Her eyes singled out Adama as the senior Colonial offer present, and she stepped forward.

"Admiral Matilda Grant." She offered a sharp, parade-ground salute, "Commander 4th Fleet, Alliance of Free Systems."

"Rear-Admiral William Adama." Her counterpart returned the salute with equal crispness, "Commander of the Battlestar _Galactica_, Twelve Colonies of Kobol."

"Admiral." Grant smiled, her demeanour softening, "I've heard a lot about you these past couple of weeks."

"All true, I'm afraid." Starbuck stepped through the hatch, a huge smile on her face, and stood before her surrogate father, "Sorry I'm late, sir; I got a little lost on the way and had to hitch a ride."

"Trust you to be too stubborn to remain dead for long." Tigh scoffed, but there was a smile on his face, "Good to have you back, Thrace."

"It's good to be back, Sir." Starbuck took his hand and shook it, "But you know me; I love to make an entrance."

"Speaking of which, may I introduce the President of the Twelve Colonies," Adama stepped slightly to the side, "Laura Roslin."

"Admiral Grant, I'd like to personally thank you on behalf of the people and government of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol." Roslin smiled, "Your timing couldn't have been better."

"We try our best." Grant offered her hand, "If you don't mind, I'd like to leave the full diplomatic greetings for someone a little more experienced than I am; my job is to offer our help in getting your people somewhere safe. Beyond that and you're getting above my pay-grade."

"I can relate to that." Adama smiled, "I suppose I should also introduce..."

"Dr Halsey, I presume?" Grant turned to her right, "And, well...a man who needs no introduction." She looked up at the Master Chief and snapped off a sharp salute, "It is an honour to meet you, Master Chief, it truly is; I don't think there is a single living citizen of the Alliance who hasn't heard of your exploits during the Covenant War, and knows the debt the entire galaxy owes you."

"I was...only doing my duty." The big Spartan sounded slightly embarrassed at all the fuss, "Same as everyone else."

"Modest to a fault, I see." Grant smiled, and signalled to somebody waiting in the airlock, "Well, there are some people here who would like to meet you." She looked at the other Spartans, "All of you."

There was a dull thud of metal on metal, and another figure stepped through the airlock. The armour was newer, more streamlined and with a semi-organic feel, but there was no mistaking it as anything other than a suit of Mjolnir armour. They carried the same strange looking rifle as the ODST's, but the weapons looked like toys in their hands. The stranger stepped down through the hatch, and was soon followed by seven others. The apparent leader looked at the Master Chief and slowly brought one hand up to face level and swiped a quick smile across their faceplate with two fingers. They then carefully removed their helmet and the assembled party gasped as they looked upon a younger version of the Master Chief. Another one of the Spartans followed suit, levering a near perfect doppelgänger of the first

"Well, it's nice to finally meet you," The first one smiled, "brother."

**To Be Continued...**


	41. Band Of Brothers

_Ongoing thanks to Zimu Yang for beta-reading  
__Another info-dump chapter, I'm afraid_

**Red In Tooth And Claw  
****Chapter 41: B****and Of Brothers**

Colonel Tigh was the first to react, drawing his side arm and pointing it at one of the Spartans with a snarl on his face. This set off a rippling chain reaction as weapons were drawn and pointed at the nearest available target. The Master Chief signalled the other Spartans in his group to surround Dr Halsey, Mendez and Cortana in a wall of metal while Adama pulled Roslin back, instinctively putting himself between his president and danger. Cavil on the other hand held Boomer in front of himself as a human shield. The ODST officer had unceremoniously thrown Admiral Grant back through the airlock and stood guard over her, shoulder to shoulder with his subordinates.

"Wow!" Starbuck slowly raised her hands, "Anyone wants to just calm the frak down?"

"They're Cylons!" Tigh snapped, looking down the barrel of his gun at the nearest Spartan, "This has all been some kind of elaborate trap, right from the beginning!"

"Have you been drinking again?" The pilot asked, slowly stepping between the XO and his target, "I've been to Earth; it's real, and they can take us there. But first you have to put. Your. Gun. Down."

"I'd do as she says." One of the new Spartans suggested, their rifle pointed at the Colonel's head, "Pull that trigger, and things can only end badly for you."

"Saul." Adama slowly reached out and put his hand gently on his friends arm, "Stand down, old friend." He looked around at the rest of his people, "That goes for the rest of you, too."

Slowly and hesitantly, grips were lessened and weapons were lowered as order was restored.

"Well that wasn't the first contact scenario I had in mind." President Roslin straitened her jacket, "May I suggest that Dr Halsey take some of our new guest over to the starboard flight deck to get acquainted while the rest of us head up to the wardroom and discuss what to do next?"

"That sounds good to me." Admiral Grant stood, dusting off her uniform as she looked at the apparent leader of the new Spartans, "Captain."

"Sir." The Spartan nodded then turned to face the Master Chief, "After you."

The walk was conducted in silence, with Kelly and Linda leading the way. John followed behind, with Fred, Cortana, Dr Halsey, Mendez, and the new arrivals, while the Spartan III's brought up the rear. Word was already spreading throughout the ship, and several crew members found an excuse to be in an area the party passed through, eager to catch a glimpse of the strangers. They reached the last hatch leading through to the sealed off area, and the leader of the new Spartans signalled two of his subordinates to hold position and make sure no one followed.

"In here." Dr Halsey opened the hatch leading into the impromptu gym, "It's the only room big enough to hold us all."

She made her way to the opposite wall, flanked by the rest of her group while the newcomers clustered around the hatch. There was a silver-blue blur as Contemplation zipped through the hatch and hovered in the air above the Master Chief.

"Greetings, I am 823543 Silent Contemplation." The A.I. bobbed up and down excitedly, "Welcome, welcome. Please, make yourselves comfortable."

"You can start by explaining just who you are." Halsey stood with her arms folded, looking out across the tops of her glasses.

"I am Captain Henry-B056, leader of Team-Knife. This Lieutenant James-B007, Team Nova." The leader gestured towards his doppelganger, "We are SPARTAN-IV Super Soldiers."

"I don't think that's what she meant." Mendez spoke up, "Why did you call John 'brother'?"

"Because I'm his clone." Henry explained, "All members of Bravo Company are clones of former Spartans. Lisa here," He nodded to the Spartan standing behind his left shoulder, "is a clone of Alice-130."

"Yes, there was talk of using clones." Halsey nodded slowly, rubbing her chin as she assimilated the information, "I think you should perhaps start from the beginning."

"As you wish. After the loss of the training facility on Onyx 87 years ago, HighCom was ready to pull the plug on ORION: it was just too expensive to start over again from scratch, given the cost of rebuilding after the Covenant War. There were only four know surviving Spartan-II's back then - Adriana, Mike and Jai from Grey Team, and Maria, whose commission was reactivated during the Battle of Earth and was instrumental in defending the Special Warfare Centre in Korea.Then a deep-range reconnaissance ship found the _Spirit Of Fire_; she'd lost her slipstream drive during the war and was heading back towards the Inner Colonies at a near-relativistic sub-light speed." Henry explained, "Douglas, Jerome and Alicewere aboard, and O.N.I. decided they had enough experienced personnel to restart SPARTAN-III selection and training. However, with a diminished threat to Earth and her Colonies, they decided to change the recruitment process. They used DNA from the previous Spartans to create clones. Some of us are straight copies like James, Lisa and myself while others were created using manipulated or mixed DNA like Aziz, Marco and Tess." Three of the other Spartans nodded, "This helped to avoid some of the ethical quandaries in the previous programs and also bought the time needed to put the support structures in place. After all, unlike flash-clones, a viable clone still takes nine months to mature. We used the Spartan-III argumentation due to its zero percent failure rate. The Spartan Corps now stands at brigade strength, with one battalion spread out across each of the three UN-controlled sectors."

"What about this 'Alliance of Free Systems'?" Cortana asked, "How does that work?"

"The Alliance is made up of the worlds still controlled by the Unified Earth Government, a few independent human-worlds, the Sangheili Imperium, the Mgalekgolo Conglomerate and the Unggoy Protectorates." Henry stood at ease, "We also have a large Huragok population; they were instrumental in rebuilding after the Covenant War. The Alliance is more of an economic and military organisation rather than a unified political body. My team and I are still part of the UNSC, and ultimately report to HighCom on Earth. We're only second to the Alliance, similar to how NATO used to operate."

"And the Covenant?" The Master Chief asked, "What of them?"

"The Covenant Remnant, as we call them, is made up of the surviving San 'Shyuum, the Jiralhanae and the Yanme's, along with some of the Unggoy and an unknown number of Huragok slaves." His clone explained, "Although plagued by in-fighting between different factions and suffering from weak leadership, they still control a large number of ships and worlds, making them a credible threat to the Alliance. The San 'Shyuum seem to be dying out due to wide spread genetic disorders, but the Jiralhanae are as deadly as ever. The Kig-yar broke away shortly after the end of the Covenant War and have gone back to being space-pirates. To the best of our knowledge, the Flood have been eliminated; we tracked down the rest of the Halos and made sure they were cleaned, and then we destroyed the Activation Indexes to make sure they could never be used again."

Cortana fidgeted slightly, the long-hidden data looming like an iceberg in the dark recesses of her mind.

"Well, that's answered my questions, at least for now." Halsey looked around, "I'm going to see what the others are talking about."

* * *

"We left a Cruiser, some Frigates and a pair of Destroyers with our support ships." Grant was explaining as Halsey made her way into the wardroom, "We didn't want to leave them totally defenceless if this was some kind of trap. I've already ordered the _Skinwalker_ back to the rendezvous point to give the all clear."

"We're thankfully for the help." President Roslin smiled "You're being more generous that I'd ever hoped to dream."

"I have two ex-husbands and an ex-wife who'd disagree with you." Grant shook her head, "I'm sorry; I can get a little melancholy at times. But like I said before, politics isn't my game."

"So say we all." Adama nodded, "But we should get on the move. The Loyalist Cylons may have been surprised, but they're unlikely to give up that easily."

"Indeed." Cavil nodded somewhat grimly, "The Six who leads them is unstable, she could do anything."

"Then I say we go on the offensive; strike them were it'll do the most damage." Halsey stepped forward, "As you know, I've been doing a lot of research into the Cylon Resurrection network and there is one fatal flaw in the system." She pulled a portable holo-emitter from her pocket, placed it on the table and activated it: a massive structure appeared floating in the air above the meeting room, "The central Hub: a mobile control node for the entire network."

"It's FTL capable: first sign of an attack force and it'll jump away." Cavil pointed out, "And it's always escorted by at least a dozen of our most powerful Baseships."

"We should be able to disable or at least confuse their FTL with a couple of _Whiz-Bang's_." Grant mused then saw the way half of the room was looking at her, "ARS-441 Proximity Plasma Warheads. Think a larger version of a Covenant plasma grenade; very little blast damage, but they mess with anything electronic within, say, 500-meters? Depending on shielding, that is. Very useful when you want to capture a ship rather than destroy it. The _Shadow Of The Night_ or the _Skinwalker_ carry them as standard for anti-smuggling operations, but they can be fitted to a _Longsword_ if needed. It's possible that they could disable the FTL long enough to get a boarding party in and take over the command centre."

"Taking the Resurrection Hub intact serves two purposes." Halsey explained as she started to slowly walk around the room, "First and foremost, we can cut off Caprica-Six's followers and allow our allies to rejoin it."

"We rob the others of their immortality, and they'll be more inclined to leave us alone, at least for now." Cavil nodded in agreement, "They're religious zealots, but they're not _that_ stupid. At least, I don't _think_ they are."

"Sounds like a good idea." Grant stood looking at the hologram, "And the second purpose?"

"We get access to Resurrection." Halsey took a deep breath, "Imagine a Spartan that truly can not die: imagine all those years of training and experience, in a body that can learn from even fatal mistakes in combat. The main problem we've had in the past was every Spartan lost in combat was a massive blow to their overall strength, given the years it takes to train a replacement. But if we can create our own version of a _Resurrection Ship_, loaded with cloned bodies complete with the latest ORION Project upgrades then they can be ready for the next mission. And should a new, better upgrade become available, they could be added to new clones and attrition would take care of the rest."

"My Gods!" Roslin looked shocked, "You're serious, aren't you?"

"As a heart attack." Halsey nodded, "Call it trying to make up for my past sins."

"As targets of opportunity go, it's a real peach." Grant nodded, "And we've got the fire-power. More than enough in fact." She smiled, "Hell, HighCom said I could take any and all actions I felt necessary to defend the Alliance form possible Cylon attacks, and this sounds like it fits the bill."

"It would be nice to get back on the offensive." Adama nodded, a thin smile playing across his face, "So, what's the plan?"

**To Be Continued...**


	42. Meeting The Neighbours

_Ongoing thanks to Zimu Yang for beta-reading_

**Red In Tooth And Claw  
****Chapter 42: ****Meeting The Neighbours**

Apollo looked at the fleet of Alliance ships that stood guard over the remnants of his once great civilisation. The flowing lines of the _Renewed Purpose_ had an inhuman elegance that overshadowed any ship in the Colonial or Cylon fleet, out massing the _Galactica_ and even the _Pegasus_ by several orders of magnitude. By comparison, the bulks of the _Continuation Of Politics_ and the_ Charge Of The Light Brigade _were closer to something the Twelve Colonies may have come up with in time. Of all the UNSC warships, it was the super-carrier_ Hugh Dowding_ that seemed most familiar; she had been built along similar lines to a Battlestar, even if she was a little longer than the _Galactica_, with her hanger decks above and below the main-line. Compared to these leviathans of space, even the cruisers _Lair Of The Mighty Wyvern, Clarions Call_ and _On Your Shield Or With It_seemed to pail in comparison. The far smaller frigates and destroyers were all business as they moved amidst the fleet - always keeping at least one of Cavil's suddenly outnumbered Basestars under their guns.

The civilian fleet itself had grown with the arrival of the other ships sent by Earth. Since first encountering the Master Chief, he had expected to make contact with UNSC warships, but he had never expected them to send a small fleet of cargo and support craft to meet them half way. Along with the bulk cargo haulers _Black Friday, You Break It You Bought It, Discount Brand, Stack It High Sell It Cheep,_ _Cash On Delivery_ and _Duty Free Export_with their much needed loads of food and other supplies were the survey ship _Second Star To The Right, _the science vessel_ Alan Turing, _the fleet tenders _Argo_ and _Infinite Refills_ and the hospital ship _First Do No Harm_. But most importantly from Apollo's point of view, the mobile dockyard _Newport News_, which had already taken the battered and almost broken _Pegasus_ into its embrace; its army of skilled technicians and engineers working around the clock to return the once proud Battlestar to a combat ready status.

"Okay, listen up and listen good, 'cause I'm only going to say this once." One of the two ODST's standing by the Pelican's rear hatch spoke up, bring Apollo back to reality, "My name is Gunnery-Sergeant Nathaniel Raymond. You can call me Gunny. This is Corporal Zoë Torres," He gestured to the woman at his side, "In a few minutes we will be landing on the Assault Carrier _Renewed Purpose_. Most of her crew are Sangheili, and there will also be other non-humans on board. Now I know that most of you have had some experience with the Huragok, but you're still likely to be a little shocked when you come face to face with an alien life-form for the first time. My advice to you would be to keep calm and try not to start a diplomatic incident. Corporal Torres and I will be escorting you from the hanger deck to the war-room. I wouldn't recommend getting lost on the way: the Sangheili have a very strict zero-tolerance policy when it comes to areas that are off-limits."

A shadow fell over the view port as the transport entered the cavernous hanger deck, passing through the force field that kept the atmosphere inside and landing with a slight jolt. There was a pop and a slight hiss as the pressure equalised, then the main hatch slowly lowered. If the Assault Carrier had looked unusual from the outside, it was truly inhuman on the inside; the deck, bulkheads and high, vaulted ceiling were made of some strange, purple material. The lighting was low and understated, and it took Apollo a moment to adjust. A tall figure loomed out of the darkness, and the Colonial took a step back.

"I am Weapons-Master Tek 'Fangos." It's voice sounded like it had been dragged from the depths of Hades itself, "Welcome to the _Renewed Purpose_. Please, follow me."

* * *

"It's good to have my own bed back." Admiral Grant stretched as she stepped out into her day cabin, "Maybe I've spent too long on a Sangheili ship, but I find it hard to get use to a human bed."

"We all find comfort in the familiar." Dr Halsey sat in one of the large chairs around the small conference table, "Why did you ask me to come here alone?"

"Now that's the Catherine Halsey I read about at the academy: blunt and to the point." Grant smiled as she poured two glasses of water and set them down on the polished wood of the table, then sat down in her own chair, "You're here because HighCom gave me some very specific instructions before we left Earth, including a list of questions I was to ask you, based on the information Section Three got from Captain Thrace during her, debriefing."

"If they're anything like the Section Three of my day, I doubt she enjoyed it." Halsey looked out over the top of her glasses, "Should I expect a formal complaint from President Roslin?"

"Oh, I'm sure there will be a complaint, maybe even a full senate inquiry, when we get back to Earth." The Admiral dismissed the idea with a wave of her hand, "But Section Three will do what they always do in these matters; issue some vague statement with the usual comments about operational security, then close ranks and refuse to answer any further questions."

"The more things change, the more they stay the same, huh?" Halsey snorted, "So what are these questions that HighCom want answered?"

"Well, there is the matter of Cortana." Grant seemed a little ill at ease, "Her change in state, has risen more than a few questions back home."

"Yes, that's why I told her to remain on the _Galactica_ for the time being." Halsey sat up, her expression and posture changing in an instant, "I want you to listen very carefully, Admiral, because I do not like having to repeat myself: I consider Cortana to be as much my daughter as if I had given birth to her myself, and as such I am extremely protective of her. Anyone who has it in mind to treat her as a science experiment will find themselves the subject of my full and undivided attention. And trust me when I say that that is not something you want to experience: I have no surviving enemies, at all." She paused, and a thin smile played across her lips, "And, if by some miracle there is someone who is brave or foolish enough to not be afraid of me, then I should warn you that she has recently entered into a romantic relationship with the Master Chief. Considering that he was willing to storm the gates of hell for her when she was merely an A.I., I very much doubt that there is a power in the universe that could stop him from protecting her now she is his lover."

* * *

_Galactica's_ CIC was abuzz with UNSC officers who had been invited over to tour the warship while the senior staff was on the _Renewed Purpose_. The somewhat overwhelmed Colonials found themselves bombarded with questions about the ship, its systems and the principles behind them. Most interest was directed towards the FTL drives used by the Colonials and Cylons, as well as the properties of Tylium, due to the minerals energy generating capacity.

Cortana watched them nervously. She had been given a Lieutenant Commander's uniform and rank insignia, and the cover story explaining her presence was the same as had been used before. All she had to do was keep quiet and hope that HighCom would otherwise leave her be. She felt sure that there would be some repercussions for her actions since arriving on the _Galactica_; she had broken more than her fair share of rules and regulations, and that left out the fact that she was an A.I. who had transcended her original form and become human.

Still, she had her mother and the Master Chief on her side; what more could she ask for?

Several of the visiting officers were clustered around the central DRADIS console, which Lieutenant Gaeta was explaining to them as best he could.

"I'm surprised to see that you're still using _Halcyon_ class Cruisers." Cortana looked at the information on display, "They were on the verge of being retired before the start of the Covenant war."

"The design proved to be so resilient to damage during the war that the BuShips ordered new ones to be built." Commander Kate McAdams, gunnery-officer on the _Clarion's Call_ explained somewhat proudly, "With the new tech we developed or otherwise gained during the war, the Block-II variants are much more powerful than the original _Halcyon's_ and more than twice as durable."

"But you're still using MAC cannons?" Cortana asked, confused, "The gun-camera footage I saw showed some of your ships firing energy weapons, while others are still armed with kinetic energy weapons."

"The budget's not what it was. After the Covenant War, the economy was in ruins and what remained of the fleet was scattered to the four winds, trying to protect the handful of surviving colonies and outposts from attacks by Covenant Loyalists and Insurrectionists." Commander Matthew Hardy, captain of the _Caledfwlch_, frowned, "Between rebuilding the damage to the basic infrastructure, and patching up the ships we had left, there wasn't a lot of money for new hulls or R&D. Hell, out of our entire fleet, only five of the ships were built after the war, and two of them still have that fresh-from-the-builders-yard smell about them. Everyone else has to make do with upgrades and refits, patching news systems onto older hulls."

"Shields help a lot." McAdams nodded, "Now they're standard issue to all UNSC warships, we can finally go toe-to-toe with anything the Covenant or the Kig-yar can throw at us without getting taken down by the first volley of plasma torpedoes."

"That's good to hear." Geata smiled, "Any chance you could share that tech a little?"

* * *

"An impressive ship." Cavil stood at the back of the _Renewed Purpose's_ bridge and soaked up the raw power the ship seemed to radiate, "I can see how you were able to push the Thirteenth Tribe to the brink of extinction."

"Let me give you some advice Cylon. My people fought the humans of Earth, pushed them back from colony to colony, all the way to their home world. And we had to fight and bleed for every step we took." 'Baranos' eyes narrowed and his mandibles flexed instinctively, "Of all the races I have encountered, none are as tenacious and unyielding in combat as the humans. They do not, I believe, understand the concept of simply giving in to what others would see as an inevitable fate. When pushed or threatened, their instinct is to fight back, regardless of the odds or the enemy. I have seen records from the Covenant War of human civilians, not warriors, attack my kind, even Jiralhanae and Mgalekgolo, with sticks and rocks and their bare hands. They never once just '_gave in_' to death, never once lost their will to fight. Betray them at your own peril, Cylon, for I doubt the universe would mourn the passing of a race that was so... foolish."

**To Be Continued...**


	43. Language Barrier

_Ongoing thanks to Zimu Yang for beta-reading  
__I'm having a little fun at the expense of the Colonials at the start of this chapter,  
__but it was the only way to get over my writers block_

**Red In Tooth And Claw  
****Chapter 43: Language Barrier**

Apollo stood with his back against the bulkhead observing the room. Humans in Colonial and UNSC uniforms stood in small groups interspersed with Sangheili officers, discussing the planned assault on the Resurrection Hub. A pair of Mgalekgolo stood towing over the main plotting table, as intimidating as they were immobile, examining the schematics of the Cylon instillation.

"Waad yee be Major Adama?" A strangely accented voice asked, and Apollo turned to find himself face-to-face with a UNSC officer dressed in a set of wrinkled coveralls; a stark comparison to the neatly pressed duty uniforms most of the other's wore.

"Lee Adama." He nodded, offering his hand, "_Galactica's_ CAG."

"Commander Felix de Carabas. Skipper and chief yard-dog o the Newport News" The stranger had a bone-crushing handshake, "Ah need te hev a wee word wi you aboot yer ship, the _Pegasus_."

"Is there a problem?" Apollo asked, feeling a pang of guilt over the state his once proud former command had gotten into.

"Not a problem as such; more on an impasse, if yee will." de Carabas pulled a palm-pad computer from one of his numerous pockets, "We've reached the point weor someone has te decide just hoo far wi gan wi the refit: wi hev the original master plans frem the ships mainframe, so if yee wanted wi could put hor back the way sheh wez when sheh forst left the builders yard." He turned the pad around and showed an image of the _Pegasus_ as she had been in her prime, "But Admiral Grant has given weh permission te really gan te toon , try an bring hor up te summat approaching UNSC standard. Noo we've got the parts in stock, either on the Newport horsell or one o the tenders wi browt wi weh , an it's modular tech tha should be easy te interface wi yer systems, if they're owt leik tha over-grown lawn-dart yee caal a fighter tha Captain Thrace cyame through the Voi portal in. But aal tha tech comes at a price: you'd need a smart-A.I. te run a ship leik tha gis the complexity of some o the systems, an I've heard hoo yee fowk are when it comes te those."

"I'm sorry. I barely understood a word of that." Apollo shook his head and held up his hands in mock surrender, "Your accent is like nothing I've ever heard before."

"Sorry about that. I'm from a planet called Tyne that was first settled by people from the Northumbria region of Earth, and the accent's kind of a badge of honour." de Carabas smiled, his voice softening and becoming easier to understand "Geordie's have always been good ship builders, and after Reach got glassed by the Covenant back in 2552, we became the main UNSC shipyard. Since then, there's not been a captain worth their salt that didn't want a Geordie down in the engine room."

"So you're saying we'd need a smart A.I. if we wanted the _Pegasus_ upgraded?" Apollo's eyes narrowed, "That would be a hard sell, even if I was convinced it was the right thing to do. What kind of upgrades are we talking about?"

"This'll tell you everything you need to know." de Carabas handed over the data-pad, "I've got to get back to my ship." He gestured towards the rest of the room's occupants, "Something tells me I'm going to have a lot of ships to fix in the near future."

* * *

The ship seemed to reek of antiseptic, the same smell that Roslin had come to dread back on the Colonies when she'd been a humble school teacher. It was that smell that had kept her from keeping regular appointments, and had resulted in the cancer that had almost killed her reaching the inoperable stage in the first place. But she was smart enough to learn from her mistakes, and having already seen some of the Thirteenth Tribes medical advances, she had taken a shuttle over to the _First Do No Harm_ and requested a consultation.

"I'm sorry for keeping you waiting." the door opened, and for a moment she could hear the sounds of a busy hospital at work, before it closed with a faint click, and silence returned, "We underestimated how bad things were out here."

If the stress of being both Commanding Officer and Chief Medical Officer of the hospital ship was getting to Dr Inese Larssonde, then it didn't show outwardly. Her lab coat was immaculate, and her shoulder-length, greying hair was pulled back into a plain ponytail. She held a palm-sized computer in her hand, and it fitted easily into the slot on her desk. The lights dimmed slightly as the holo-projector built into the ceiling came to life, showing a 3D image of the new tumour that was growing inside Roslin's chest.

"It's small enough to get out in one surgery, and there's no sign that it has spread to any other part of your body, but you will need to undergo regular check-ups to make sure." Larssonde sat down, her hands resting on the immaculate desk, "There is, however, one complication."

"Isn't there always?" Roslin asked dryly, "And that is?"

"It's been close to five hundred years since we developed the gene-therapy for cancer back on Earth, and as such we don't have an oncologist on-staff. Truth is, you'd be hard-put to find one anywhere outside of a teaching hospital." the doctor explained, "Standard procedure for a case like this would be to book you a slot with one of our AutoDocs and let the machine do all the work, but..."

"Like a lot of my people, I'm not ready to trust any machine with my life." Roslin shook her head, "It may seem strange to you, but you've not had a race of sentient machines declare a holy war against your entire society."

"Well, as luck would have it, one of our senior Attending's does have some experience with this kind of procedure, but even then there is a potential problem." Larssonde took a deep breath, "We are not a ship of the line: we're Fleet Auxiliary, and as such we are allowed to bend some of the rules when it comes to our crew. The doctor in question, Ben Meier, is out chief cardiologist, but he's also a Jesuit Priest and our 'unofficial' Chaplain."

"And this is normal?" Roslin asked, feeling slightly uncomfortable.

"The United Earth Government has very strict rules governing the separation of Church and State, as does the Alliance as a whole; a natural response to what happened with the Covenant." Larssonde did her best to explain, "While his calling as a Priest would not stop him from serving on a warship as a medical doctor, he would be expect to refrain from ministering to the crew. But we're a hospital ship; we get sent where there's death and destruction, and sometimes people feel a little better knowing that there's someone there to guide them into whatever they think is waiting for them on the other side." She paused, "Just don't get into a theological debate with him. In the six years we've served together, I've never known him to lose an argument or discussion where God is involved."

"So he's a monotheist?" Roslin asked calmly.

"He believes in only one God, yes." Larssonde nodded, "But I assure you that he is also one of the best surgeons I have ever worked with, and he has never once put his faith ahead of his duty as a doctor. I would trust him with my own life without a second thought."

"And what about you?" Roslin looked out over the tops of her glasses, "What, if you don't mind me asking, do you believe in?"

"I'm agnostic. If there is a Higher Power out there, I can't say I've ever felt its presence." Larssonde smiled, "But then again, lack of proof is not proof of lack, so let's just say I like to keep an open mind."

* * *

"Frack me, that's a big gun..." Helo pulled himself up on his tip-toes underneath one of the C725 _Longsword_ interceptors that lined the _Hugh Dowding's_ flight deck, and looked down one of the barrels of the massive cannon that jutted out from under the ships nose, "No wonder they took ripped those _Raiders_ apart so easily; I've seen smaller weapons on a Battlestar!"

"There are two even bigger ones under here." Athena was crotched down on the deck, pointing at the two weapons fixed at an oblique angle of attack, "Must be intended for use in strafing runs."

"The one under the nose is a M90 Rotary Gauss cannon that uses a series of magnetic coil in each barrel to accelerate a 100mm round to hyper-sonic velocities. It's rotary because of the time it tacks for the coils to charge: seven barrels allow for a much higher rate of fire, and the cost of slightly less damage per hit." A voice from somewhere above their heads explained, "The ventral guns are 120mm high-velocity cannons that are actually mounted on 90 degree swivel platforms. And yes, they're mainly use for strafing; either ground targets or capital ships." A rather elfin looking face framed by flowing red hair appeared over the leading edge of the fighter's delta-wing, "Lieutenant Tina Coleman, but everyone calls me _Top Cat_."

"Captain Karl Agathon; _Helo_." The former CAG nodded towards his companion, "My wife, Sharon."

"_Athena_." She elbowed him in the ribs, "This your ship?"

"It's the Fleet's ship, or so the Wing Commander keeps telling me." Coleman dropped down to the deck, and the two colonials were surprised at just how short she actually was. She was at least an inch below Athena's less than towing frame, and almost doll-like in her build, "But yeah, they let me play with her from time to time." She looked at the other woman and nodded, "So, you're one of the 'friendlies' they briefed us on? One of the Eights we're not to shoot on sight?"

"I'm sure you could get away with shooting Boomer." Athena smiled, "Linda did."

"I'm afraid we don't get the same leeway as Spartans." A voice from behind cut in and the three pilots turned round to see a tall, older looking man with close cropped grey hair standing next to Starbuck, who was grinning like an idiot.

"I told you they'd get lost on their way to the briefing room." She held out her had, "Pay up."

"I'm going to have to have a word with Major Smith." The man grumbled as he pulled a pair of _Sweet Williams_ from a pocket on the front of his flight suit and handed them over, "He has a lot to answer for."

"I had bad habits long before I met him." Starbuck said while pocketing the cigars, "Guys, this is Commander Cassius McQueen. He's the equivalent of the CAG around here."

"Hence when they call me _The King_." McQueen shook the two new comer's hands, "I hope T.C. wasn't being a bother? This is her first deployment out of the academy, and she's still a little green."

"No, we were just admiring her ship." Athena nodded back towards the _Longsword_, "Bit bigger than anything I've ever flown."

"We'll try and get you a ride in one, after the briefing." McQueen gestured towards a nearby hatch, "Shall we?"

**To Be Continued...**


	44. Targets Of Opportunity

_Ongoing thanks to Zimu Yang for beta-reading_

**Red In Tooth And Claw  
****Chapter 44: ****Targets Of Opportunity**

The _Dowding's_ pilots briefing room was a large amphitheatre-like chamber with over a hundred metal seats bolted to the deck surrounding a podium and holo-projector. It was only half full, and Coleman led the visitors to a row of seats half way down before sitting next to another woman with shoulder length brunette hair.

"Guys, this is Lieutenant Deering, my wingman." She explained.

"_Dizzy._" The woman shook the newcomer's hands.

The lights dimmed, signalling the commencement of the briefing.

"Okay, I'll keep this as brief as I can." McQueen stood at the podium, the room's acoustics making it easy to hear him, "Our mission has been given the code-name _OPERATION: BLACK KNIGHT_ and will commence at 2300-hours tomorrow night. Red and Blue squadrons will be transferring over to the _Renewed Purpose_, while Green and Violet squadrons will remain behind to defend the fleet."

The holo-projector came to life, displaying a large free-floating structure, "This is our target; the Cylons call it 'The Hub', and it is apparently the central nexus of their so-called Resurrection Network. The idea is that if we capture or destroy it, then they'll be a little less willing to mount suicide charges."

The image zoomed in to show a section of the Hub near the bottom, "This, according to our allies, is the main power distribution node for their FTL drive. The _Skinwalker_ will jump in outside of detection range then slowly close in until they can fire a _Whiz-Bang_. Once they conform the engines are disabled, the rest of the assault force, consisting of the _Renewed Purpose_, the _Continuation Of Politics_, the _Charge Of The Light Brigade_ and the _Sword Of__Fury_ will jump in from their holding position in slip-space and attack the defending Baseships. Red squadron will join with the fighters from the other ships in engaging any hostile fighters. They will be the only Cylon fighters in the air, so feel free to shoot on sight." He stepped back, "Commander McGregor will now brief Blue squadron"

"Sir." Another officer took the podium. He was younger, but his light brown hair was starting to go grey around the edges. Despite this, he seemed to exude the same calm confidence as McQueen, "While Red squadron and the other fighters are keeping the sky clear, Blue squadron will fly close escort for a number of DropShips from the _Renewed Purpose_ and deploy a boarding party whose task will be capture the Hub's central control room before they have a chance to get their FTL back on line. If they succeed, they will either affect what repairs are needed to make an independent jump, or prepare the ship to be towed into slipstream by the _Renewed Purpose_. Once the DropShip's are in, we will join the others and take on anything that's left. And don't expect a cake-walk; we are expecting at least twenty enemy capital ships, each with a full compliment of fighters. The only advantage we have is that their ships seem to be especially vulnerably to plasma-based weapons."

"You'll find full briefings on the main server, as well as updated tactical specifications of the ship we will be facing." McQueen stepped forward, "Go over it all until you know your part in the plan backwards, forwards, upside-down and inside-out."

* * *

The Master Chief looked at the new suit of Mark VIII Mjolnir armour before him. While it closely resembled his old Mark VII suit, there were obvious alterations. The armour was a little thinner in places, allowing for better manoeuvrability, but there was a slight shine to it where the adaptive camouflage system was inactive.

"We brought them with us, one for each of you." Henry stood to one side, "Figured that if we got into a fight, it wouldn't be right to see you without the best."

"I'm impressed." The Master Chief motioned towards a large cargo crate, "What's in there?"

"That?" Henry looked at the box and smiled, "That's a little something for if thing's get really hairy." He walked over and typed an authorisation code into the controls on the front of the box, and it opened to reveal a massive suit of battle armour, "This is a _Decimator_ Battle Suit: we use them for extreme combat and planetary assault operations. They're based on an early prototype of the Mjolnir system that was shelved." He pressed a control, and the suit was pushed forward on hydraulic rams, "It's designed to interface with the latest variant of Mjolnir, so even if you have to punch out, you're not entirely defenceless."

"Weapons?" The Chief asked, fascinated.

"Right arm holds a directed-energy cannon based in part on what you would know as a Sentential Beam. There's a three-shot missile system that can track ground or air targets up to five kilometres away." A side panel on the crate opened and a large gun hissed out, "60mm Gauss-Cannon; fits over the left shoulder when the suits assembled. Then you've got five explosive charges that can be used as grenades, mines or satchel charges, and a plasma-bayonet."

"Plasma-bayonet?"

"Half a Sangheili plasma-sword mounted below the energy cannon; cuts a Jiralhanae clean in half."

"Defences?"

"2nd Generation Bubble Shield, ceramic Titanium-A armour and a plasma based self-destruct system, just in case." Henry started to close the crate back up, "Also has an anti-grav propulsion system that gives it a limited orbital drop capability. But it's too big for the kind of fighting we're expecting on the Hub. The _Decimator_ isn't designed to work in close proximity to friendly infantry. Still, I'm sure the Mgalekgolo will be more than up to handling any heavy lifting we need doing."

* * *

President Roslin lay looking up at the ceiling roll pass as a nurse pushed the trolley she was on down a short hallway and into one of the _First Do No Harm's_ operating theatres. She had decided, after much thought and having met with Dr Meier, to allow him to perform the operation, rather than trust an A.I. controlled AutoDoc. They passed through an anti-room into the theatre proper, and Roslin was surprised at just how may computers there were.

"Hello, Madam President." Dr Meier pulled down his surgical mask, "Last chance to change your mind."

"Don't tell her that." Dr. Cottle stood against the far wall, eager to observe the operation, "Have you any idea the trouble I had getting her into my sick bay the last time around?"

"Something to be said for a life-or-death situation." Meier smiled then nodded towards another doctor, "This is Dr. Sayid Bey, our Chief Neurologist. He will be assisting me today."

"Any chance to learn something new." The man nodded, "You never know when I might need to do this myself."

"Are you also a Jesuit?" Roslin asked groggily as the anaesthetic took affect.

"Actually, I'm a Muslim." Dr Bay saw the look of bewilderment of the Presidents face, "Same God, different path. But don't worry: I'm use to having non-believers under the knife."

"It's a trap!" Roslin giggled, her eyes closing, "Cottle, get me out of here..."

"Is she always like that?" Meier asked the _Galactica's_ CMO as he pulled his mask back up.

"More often than not." Cottle chuckled.

"I heard that!" Roslin protested before she finally gave in to the powerful anaesthetic.

"Okay, game faces people; this isn't going to be like reading about it in a text book." Meier took a breath, "Something light today, Faith. I think we'll start with _Moonlight Serenade_, if you'd be so kind."

"Of cause, Ben." The ship's A.I. sounded almost sensual, and the music started to play, "Anything for you."

"I'm telling you, she's got a crush on you." Bay looked out across the top of his surgical mask with humour filled eyes.

"It's the dog-collar." Meier shook his head as a nurse handed him a scalpel, "Women always want what they know they can't have."

* * *

"We call this drink 'rum'." Grant handed over a pair of tumblers half-filled with a dark liquor, "It's somewhat of a long-standing naval tradition back on Earth."

"I'm all for tradition." Tigh smiled, sniffing his glass, "And I'll try anything once."

"To the wind that blows, the ship that goes." Grant raised her glass with a smile, "and the lass that loved a sailor!"

"I'll drink to that." Adama returned the toast, and took a sip of his drink. His eyes went wide, and for a moment, it looked like he might spit it back out again, but he managed to swallow it.

"What's the matter, Bill?" Tigh asked as he swallowed half his own glass without complaint, "Not getting soft in your old age, are you?"

"Perhaps I should have mentioned that Navy Rum is 95.5-percent proof." Grant chuckled, "That'll get you out of your bunk on a cold morning."

"Smooth." Adama coughed, still feeling the burning sensation of the liquor in his throat, "This mission, do you really think you can pull it off? You're going to be outnumbered at least five to one, and that's not counting the Hub itself."

"I wouldn't have authorised the mission if I didn't think we could pull it off." Grant sipped her drink as she leaned back against her desk, "Yes, we are going to be outnumbered, but we've yet to see a Cylon weapon that can even harm one of our ships. That's not to say that I'm complacent, just willing to roll the dice a little." She shrugged, "I think Dr. Halsey is mad if she thinks she can make immortal Spartans, but she's always been one to push the limits of what's possible. Me? I'd blow the Hub to atoms and call it a win, if our 'allies' didn't need it."

"So you trust Cavil about as far as I do?" Tigh asked.

"My grandfather use to say that '_the enemy of my enemy is, at best, and ally of convenience_'." Grant shook her head, "He'd turn on us in a moment if he thought it was in his best interest, which is why I've declined his offer to send some of his people along on the mission. I want your Lieutenant Agathon to be the only Cylon on our side when the Marines go in." She looked at Adama, the unspoken truth that there would be a second Cylon taking part in the mission passing between them.

"I can understand that." Adama looked around for somewhere to put his glass down, "Lee came to me earlier. your engineers have offered to completely refit the _Pegasus_, but at the cost of having to install one of your 'Smart' A.I.'s." He paused for effect, "I hope you can understand why I am reluctant to agree."

"Your experience with the Cylons has taught you to hate and fear A.I.'s." Grand nodded, "I can understand that; our cultural database is full of stories, movies and TV shows that depicted what people thought might happen if we created A.I.'s. When they first started developing A.I.'s, the law demanded that they used the so-called 'Three Laws' as protection."

"Three Laws?" Tigh asked, looking around for the decanter, "What are they?"

"They were created by a science-fiction writer named Isaac Asimov in the early 20th century." Grant finished off her drink, "The first law states that an A.I. may not injure a human being or, through their action or inaction, allow a human being to come to harm. The second law states that an A.I. must obey any orders given to it by human beings, except where such orders would conflict with the First Law. The third law states that an A.I. must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Law."

"But you have military A.I.'s that can turn weapons against humans." Adama sounded unconvinced, "What's to stop them turning them on you?"

"Programmed in unquestioning loyalty to the UNSC and the Alliance." Grant winked, "That, and Law Zero: an A.I. may not harm a human being, unless he finds a way to prove that in the final analysis, the harm done would benefit humanity in general. Or, to put it another way, it's okay to kill for the good of the state."

"It sounds like you treat a very fine line." Adama shook his head, "No, I can't agree to the instillation of an A.I. on the _Pegasus_ or any other Colonial ship."

"I don't share your views on A.I.'s, but I respect your right to hold them." Grant simply shrugged as she handed the decanter of rum to Tigh, "I'll have the yard dogs do the best they can with what you've already got."

**To Be Continued...**


	45. The Eve Of Destruction

_Ongoing thanks to Zimu Yang for beta-reading_

**Red In Tooth And Claw  
****Chapter 45: ****The Eve Of Destruction**

"Does this make my ass look big?" Cortana asked as she stood in the middle of her quarters, dressed in a full ODST combat suit. It shared many similarities to the Semi-Powered Infiltration armour used by the Spartan-III's but had been built with mass production in mind, so it wasn't quite as advanced. Still, it was a step up from the BDU's and tactical vest she had worn when undergoing her basic combat training upon being released from the brig.

"Take it from someone who's been an ass person their entire life; yours is very nice." Shaw stood dressed in her own suit, the only difference being the Colonial insignia painted on the shoulders and the fact that she still had her M6D side arm attached to the magnetic plate built into her suit's right side while Cortana had one of the new M8 gauss-pistols.

"It smells... odd." Cortana complained, sniffing, "I know I'm still getting use to having an actual sense of smell rather than just access to a chemical analyser, but is that right?"

"It's what you'd call the '_new car smell_'." Shaw laughed, "All knew equipment smells like that when it first arrives; give it a few days and it'll smell like an old sweat-sock."

"Nice." Cortana rolled her eyes as she started to strip, "You didn't have to volunteer for this mission, you know."

"The Admiral may have promoted me back up to Captain, but that's just for appearances sake." Shaw shook her head, "I'm still on his black list, probably will be for life. And as I have no chance of seeing any meaningful postings in the near future, missions like this are the only chance I have of seeing further promotion any time soon."

"To bloody battles and sickly seasons, as the old toast goes." Cortana stretched, "Don't ask me why, but I have a very bad feeling about this mission."

"Then why didn't you say something?" Her friend asked, "They would have listened to you."

"You're not the only one the higher-ups don't know what to do with." Cortana frowned, "I'm tolerated, mainly because of John and my mother, but it's been made clear that my rank and position are considered honorary, and subject to review at any time."

"You don't think they'd try anything funny, do you?" Shaw was genuinely concerned for her friend.

"Mother spoke with Admiral Grant and whatever she said seems to have worked." Cortana stepped out of her heavy combat boots and stood in t-shirt and gym-shorts, "No one new has tried to poke me with a needle yet."

"Well, that's one thing to be glad of." Shaw sighed, "Having to put up with Starbuck is another question."

* * *

"Have I mentioned recently that I signed up to be a pilot?" Helo asked as they made their way back to the landing bay and the waiting shuttle, "I was an ECO before this all started, not a commando."

"Relax before you burst a blood vessel." Starbuck slapped him on the back, "You've seen the Master Chief in action, right? Well this time we're going in with twenty six Spartans; that blond-haired bitch won't know what hit her."

"Don't underestimate the defences on the Hub." Athena warned, "There will literally be thousands of Centurions there, as well as the biological-crew."

"Nothing compared to twenty-six Spartans, a company of Orbital Drop Shock Troops and the assault teams from the _Renewed Purpose_." Starbuck shook her head, seemingly unconcerned as she sighted down her forefinger as if she was aiming a gun, "I just hope I run into my old friend Leoben while there; I have some unresolved anger-management issues I'd like to get out of my system by..."

"_Born in the woods,  
Raised by the bear  
Double-set of dog-teeth,  
Triple coat of hair!_"

The sound of combat-booted feet pounding on the deck and voices singing somewhat off-key but in near perfect unison filled the air, cutting Starbuck off mid sentence.

"**M!**" Gunnery-Sargent Raymond called out as they passed the pilots without even a sideways glance.

"_Mean as hell!_" the other marines shouted back.

"**A!**"

"_All the time!_"

"**R!**"

"_Rough and Tough!_"

"**I!**"

"_In the mud!_"

"**N!**"

"_Never quit!_"

"**E!**"

"_Every day!_"

"**S!**"

"_Semper Fi_!"

"Marines." Helo shook his head and laughed, "No matter what world you're from, they're the same."

"Crazy as they come, but we wouldn't have them any other way." Starbuck grinned, "Trust me; this is going to be a piece of cake."

* * *

Laura Roslin woke slowly; the mix of pain killers and anaesthetic in her system giving the world warm and fuzzy glow.

"I'm glad to see you're awake, Madam President." Dr Meier stood over her bed, making notes on a palm-sized computer, "Well, I'm happy to say the operation was a complete success; we were able to remove the tumour before it had gotten too far, and with further treatment we should be able to stop it from flaring up again."

"When...when can I go back to my own ship?" Roslin rasped.

"Another few days." Meier looked at her chart, "I want to keep you under observation until we know the gene-therapy has started to take effect."

"Like hell!" Roslin tried to sit up, but she was still too weak, "I've got to get back to work; can't leave Tom Zarek in charge..."

"I can not advise against that strongly enough." Meier shook his head, "You've just been through a major operation; your body needs time to recover."

"Drugs." Roslin insisted, "Just get me back on my feet."

"No." The word was spoken calmly and coolly.

"I'm the President of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol." Roslin protested, "What right do you have to keep me here against my will?"

"I am your doctor." Meier's voice remained level, but there was an unmistakeable shift in his body language, "As long as that remains the case, I will be the judge of when you are fit to be released."

"Not any more." Roslin looked round for anyone who might support her, but they were alone in the private recovery room, "Get Cottle."

"If you wish me to call Dr Cottle, then I will." Meier remained standing in the exact same spot, "And if he asks, I will provide him with a full and unaltered copy of my case notes and your chart. But after that point I will have nothing more to do with you. I will not help patients kill themselves, especially when there is no reason why they shouldn't live a long and healthy life."

"Are you saying I'll die if I leave?" Roslin asked, taken aback by the possibility.

"No. in fact, I'd be very much surprised if you don't make a full and speedy recovery." Meier shook his head, "But I will not let any patient of mine, even a President, pick and chose when they will follow my advice and when they will ignore it. Either you are my patient or you're not. There is no middle ground." He handed over a small comm-unit, "I have other patients to see. If you want to call Dr Cottle and have him take over your care, tap the green button; that will put you through to the duty communications officer, and they will be able to connect you with the _Galactica_. I will be back when I've finished with rounds to see what you have decided. Until then, good-day."

With that he turned and left, leaving the President alone with her thoughts.

* * *

"Okay, listen up because I hate having to repeat myself." Major Smith stood on an old ammo crate to address the small group he had called together, "You're here because I want to make one thing crystal clear before we board the DropShips: none of you are Helljumpers!" He paused to let the words sink in for a moment, "You may be dressed like one, you may carry the same weapons and equipment, but not one of you has earned the right to call yourselves Orbital Drop Shock Troopers." He looked Baxter clear in the eye, "No exceptions. I don't give a flying-fornication who you are, what rank you are, or what you've been through in the past; on this mission, you're just so-much excess baggage to me. Baggage that could, if it doesn't follow orders immediately and without question, get some of my people killed!"

Stepping down off of the crate, he started to walk between the silent audience.

"When that ramp drops, and the fighting starts, you will follow any and all instructions my people give you as if it was a commandment direct from whatever Higher Power you believe in. There will be no back chat, no second-guessing, and no trying to pull rank." He reached the back and spun round, "And if one of you should commit the unforgivable sin of getting one of my people hurt of killed, I'll make you wish you'd died at birth. **_DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?_**"

"SIR! YES SIR!" The startled group shouted as one.

"And to think this shit had to happen to me..." Smith shook his head as he muttered under his breath, "Wheels up in one hour for the final shuttles heading over to the _Renewed Purpose_; I want each and every one of you to check, double check and then tipple check that you have everything you'll need for the next three days. Then I want you to check again. Dis-_missed_!"

"Well, that was fun." Shaw rolled her eyes once she was sure the veteran officer was out of ear-shot, "After that, storming the Hub should be no problem."

"Helljumper's tend to be much more aggressive then regular marines." Cortana pointed out, shouldering her kit-bag, "It goes with the territory."

"He's much nicer when you get to know him socially." Starbuck did her best to sound reassuring, "Can't really blame him for being a little highly strung before a mission like this."

"All I know is I'll be happier when it's done." Helo put an arm around his wife, "I can't say I like leaving Hera in the crèche for days at a time."

"She'll get over it; kids are resilient like that." Starbuck smiled, "My mother was hardly ever there, even when she was, and I turned out okay."

Helo and Athena exchanged worried looks.

"I'll talk to the Admiral when we get back." He promised, "Make sure we never get put into this kind of situation again."

* * *

The mood over on the _Renewed Purpose_ was equally subdued; while no one doubted that they would succeed in the mission, there was always a time before any major combat operation when every one taking part found themselves with nothing to do but wonder if they'd be coming home again in a box. The mood seemed to permeate the entire flight deck, spreading from soldier to soldier like an infection. Then the mood suddenly started to change, rippling out from one end of the room, but travailing along in a relatively strait line. Helljumper's and pilots alike stood up strait, frowns turning into cocky smiles, while their Sangheili counterparts seemed to tense up, like hounds straining to be unleashed.

The Master Chief made his way across the hanger deck towards his assigned ship, followed by the rest of Blue Team. A pair of Mgalekgolo assigned to the assault watched them with interest, and started to recite epic war-poems in their native language. Marines and ODST come sharply to attention as the team approached. Even the normally calm and collected Sangheili commando's bared their mandibles and struck their chest with one fist as a mark of respect.

"You'll have to forgive them for being so, enthusiastic: your story is known on every world and outpost in the Alliance, and beyond." 'Baranos laughed as he walked beside them, carrying himself just a little taller than he normally did, "Now they have the chance to go into battle alongside the legendary Master Chief and his fellow Demons!" He slapped the Spartan on the back playfully, "This will truly be a battle remembered in poem and song for generations to come!"

**To Be Continued...**


	46. Storming Heaven

_Ongoing thanks to Zimu Yang for beta-reading  
__One reference to the events of the TV series _Caprica_ in this chapter,  
__so if you haven't seen that yet, be warned of minor spoilers_

**Red In Tooth And Claw  
****Chapter 46: ****Storming Heaven**

The _Skinwalker_ exited slip-space and immediately went dark. With her baffles and cloak systems running, she simply vanished from all known sensors including the human eye. Using only low-powered thrusters, the Prowler started towards the distant Hub; the massive structure's electromagnetic signature acting like a Syrian's song to the spy-ship.

* * *

The flag-bridge of the _Renewed Purpose_ was filled with an eerie calm, almost as if the crew was afraid to breathe lest they tip off the Cylons. For her part, Admiral Grant leaned back in her command chair, her eyes fixed at the back of the young ensign assigned to the communications station. He would be the first to receive word from the Skinwalker, giving the go/no-go order for the attack.

All four ships were at full combat alert, with hatches closed and crew members in the outer sections suited up in case of hull breaches. Fighter pilots sat in the cockpits of their craft, running unending check-lists to make sure that they were ready to launch the moment they entered normal space. Beside them sat the heavily armed and armoured DropShips that would ferry the assault team proper to the Hub.

Time ticked by at a crawl.

* * *

Drifting at a fraction of its cruising speed, the _Skinwalker_ passed through the outer picket with ease, never coming even with visual range of the roving Cylon _Raiders_. The high powered optical telescope in her nose was set to maximum magnification and Lieutenant-Commander Fred Hicks looked at his target.

"Well, she's at about a 30-degree angle to port in relation to us, angled away from us to about the same degree." He pondered the difficulty of the shot for a moment, "How long until they're supposed to jump out?"

"Another six hours." Lieutenant Rachel Foley, the ship's XO, reported, "At least, that's according to the friendlies."

"Best not take any chances, lest Murphy rear his ugly head." Hicks shook his head, "Okay helm, lay in a course that takes us round into a firing position while keeping us as far away from those Baseships as possible."

"Aye-aye, sir." The veteran Petty Officer at the controls confirmed, "Taking us in."

"Should we report in to the Flag Ship?" Foley asked.

"No, can't risk the Cylons intercepting the signal." Hicks shook his head, "Anyway, they're big and nasty enough to look handle themselves."

* * *

Cortana stood against the side of the _Pelican_ she had been assigned to, waiting for the order to go. She felt a presence behind her, and turned to find herself face-to-chest with the Master Chief; his new armour making him look slightly more human than before.

"John." She smiled as she looked up into his icy-blue eyes, "Why is it we always end up in the middle of the action?"

"I...would have been happier if you had stayed on the Galactica." He admitted somewhat reluctantly, "This isn't going to be as easy as some of the others seem to think."

"I've been in battle before, and I've always come through in one piece." Cortana pointed out, "And the mission called for someone with experience cutting through Cylon encryption. Someone Admiral Grant felt she could trust to be loyal to Earth and the Alliance."

"I won't be able to protect you like I have in the past." The Master Chief sounded worried, "What if this is the decision we were warned about?"

"I've been thinking about that too." Cortana frowned then shook her head, "But we can't keep wondering what might happen based on a rather cryptic message from what could be little more than a shared hallucination."

"We've both seen enough to know that … it was something more than that." John looked around to make sure no one else was listening in, "I can't help but feel that something is going to happen on this mission."

"Just as well I'm taking my own personal good-luck charm with me then." Cortana stood up on the tips of her toes while simultaneously pulling him down so she could kiss him on the lips, "We've always had each other's backs, and that's not going to change just because I don't fit in here any more." She tapped the slot in the back of his helmet, "You're not getting rid of me that easily."

* * *

"2,000km to firing range." Foley reported, slaving the ships weapons systems to her console, "We have soft lock on the target area; probability of successfully strike is 72-percent at this time."

"We turn on our RADAR or LIDAR and they're going to know something's up." Hicks frowned, "Are we picking up anything on the inferred?"

"Some background interference from the systems primary." Foley looked at the readings, "It's an early-stage Red Giant."

"Remodulate our laser targeting designator to just off of the frequency." Hicks ordered, already running the numbers on his own console, "Just enough out of the ordinary for a beam-rider to follow, but close enough to be lost in the noise if you don't know it's there."

"Remodulating." Foley brought the seldom-used system on-line, "1,000km to firing range."

* * *

"I've never liked this waiting around." Tigh grumbled as he stood in the middle of _Galactica's_ CIC, "Gods only know what's going on, but it'll all be over by the time we find out."

"Way of the world, Saul." Adama smiled grimly, "We wouldn't last five minutes against the forces they'll be facing."

"I wouldn't say that." Tigh chuckled, a mischievous look in his eye, "We've punched above our weight before now."

* * *

"Okay boys and girls, time to mount up!" Major Smith ordered, his voice echoing around the hanger, "Fleet's had their fun: now let's show these clockwork bastards what happens when you mess with the Mean Green Machine!"

"_OORAH!_" The other Marines shouted back as they started to climb aboard their assigned ships, crew chiefs making sure everyone was seated and strapped in before closing the hatch and pressing the cabin.

Cortana waited in line by one of the last shuttles with the other non-combatants, looking around to try and take in the scale of the operation. She could see the ship that had been assigned to carry the reformed and reinforced Blue Team, but the Master Chief didn't look round. She felt slightly saddened, but knew him well enough to know that he was totally focused on the mission at hand. Turning back towards the waiting _Pelican_, she caught a hint of red out of the corner of her eye: a Six stood half hidden in the shadows, a finger pressed against her lips bid Cortana to remain silent, then nodded her head and smiled as she stepped back into the darkness, vanishing

"Move it or lose it, Commander." Corporal Torres warned, standing in the hatchway, "Long past the time to get cold feet."

"I was just..." Cortana shook her head, "Nothing; I'm coming."

* * *

"Target in range." Foley announced after what felt like an age, "We have a likely shooting solution."

"Arm missiles one and two; set warheads for contact destination." Hicks snapped as he lent forward in his chair, "Prepare to send the go/no-go code to the flag-ship, and make sure the slips-space drive is charged and ready; something tells me we're going to be leaving in a hurry."

"Missiles armed and ready." Foley responded, "Releasing weapons control to your station."

"Helm, get ready to bring us hard about and go to flank the moment the missiles are away." Hicks' finger hovered over the red button built into the armrest of his chair, "We're only going to get one chance at this, so let's make it count."

"Shooting solution confirmed." Foley looked round, "We have a definitive target lock."

"Firing in three...two..one...MARK!" Hicks' jabbed the red button as hard as he could.

The optical cloak shimmered and died as the two missiles shot away from the _Skinwalker_ and arched towards the Hub as fast as their over-sized boosters could propel them. The Prowler didn't hang around to watch the show; now clearly visible to the startled Cylons, she spun around and rocketed forward, her engines glowing white-hot as she let off a cloud of jammers, decoys and dragons-teeth, clustering the Cylon DRADIS with a swarm of false images and conflicting reports. At her station, Lieutenant Foley tracked the missiles; one was intercepted by a conveniently placed flack-cannon, while the other weaved and dodged the sporadic defensive fire and struck true. Blue fire enveloped the hull of the Hub outside the main FLT control bus as an expanding sphere of electromagnetic energy tripped circuits and fused relays, disabling the drives and stranding the ship.

"We have a clean hit!" Foley cried out in joy, "Sensors show massive power outages and spikes across the Hub; she's not going anywhere fast."

"Signal the assault force to start their attack." Hicks grinned, knowing that successfully pulling off such a strange and potentially dangerous mission wouldn't hurt his chances for promotion.

"Already sent." Foley's eyes went wide, "But don't crack open the champagne just yet; we've got a wave of missiles on our ass. Sensors are going nuts, there must be a nuke in there somewhere...oh no..."

"What is it?" Hicks asked.

"It's a nuke alright; reads as a 50-mt enhanced radiation device!" The colour drained from Foley's face, "Must be a city-buster they had left over from the attack on the Colonies."

"We're a Prowler, not a God-damn Destroyer!" Hicks looked and sounded equally worried, "Our shields aren't rated for that kind of fire power!"

"They've got to catch us first!" The helmsman reported as she pulled back on the stick, swing up around a Baseship then diving between its arms even as it started to launch its _Raider_ wing.

But the missiles had a strong enough lock to follow the nimble spy-ship, the slightly fast conventional warheads striking the _Skinwalker's_ shields harmlessly, still more taken out by the rear-mounted point-defence cannons. But the nuke got through, and detonated on contact with the shields. There was a blinding flash of light that seemed to envelop the sleek vessel for a moment then it faded to show a blackened wreck bleeding atmosphere and slowly dying as her reactor shut down. A pair of _Heavy Raiders_ dived upon her, intent on boarding the vessel and salvaging what they could of her advanced systems.

The ship's cramped control room was a smoke-filled hell, most of the crew already dead or dying as consoles exploded in a shower of sparks around them. Pinned to his seat by a snapped support strut that had crushed both of his legs, Hicks blinked to try and clear his vision. He could tell that his ship was lost, with no hope of recovery once the mission started. The few sensors still working warned of the approaching Cylons and it didn't take a genius to work out what they had in mind. Fingers slick with his own blood, Hicks managed to activate the self-destruct system and carefully entered his authorisation code as his own personal universe started to go black around the edges.

"See you in hell." He coughed weakly as he hit the return key and everything went white.

* * *

"Flash traffic from the _Skinwalker_." The duty communications officer on the _Renewed Purpose_ reported excitedly, "Clean hit with one missile; Hub losing power to key systems, but Cylons alerted to their presence."

"Well, we knew that was going to happen." Grant stood, her eyes fixed on the holo-tank, "All ships assume battle stations: we're going in."

A renewed sense of urgency filled the room as the crew prepared for battle.

* * *

The Cylons were still reeling from the attack by the _Skinwalker_ when four slip-space portals opened up in their midst. One Baseship had the misfortune of being too close to one portal, and the energy wake ripped it apart like it was a child's toy. The _Sword Of Fury_ was the first ship to emerge, her pulse-laser turrets ripping into the nearest ship as her Energy Projector completed charging. While not nearly as big or powerful as the kind found on larger capital ships, it was still capable of destroying a Cylon Baseship with a single hit.

The first shot went wide, only severing one arm of the target, but the ship's targeting sensors were soon back to peak efficiency after the transition to normal space, and a pair of plasma-torpedoes finished the job. The wall of missile and canon fire the Cylons responded with was heavy by their own standards, but no where near the kind of condensed saturation bombardment _Fury_ had been built to withstand. Still, it did tax the shields enough to force the crew to divert energy from weapons to defences, lowering the ships effective fire power by a quarter.

Against just one Destroyer, the Cylons may have prevailed through sheer weight of numbers, but the _Continuation Of Politics_ and the _Charge Of The Light Brigade_ entered the fray, flanking the defensive fleet and catching them in a devastating crossfire set up like a triangle, with the Fury at the apex. Then came the _Renewed Purpose_ itself, closing the kill-box and trapping Cylons. With no room to manoeuvre, and unwilling to leave the Hub behind, they had no choice but to stand and fight. But the Hub itself was not without defences, and it directed as much of its fire as it could against the _Renewed__ Purpose_, realising that it posed the greatest threat. Conventional and nuclear tipped missiles crossed the void, hammering the Assault Carrier's shields like a mad drummer. Not wanting to risk damaging or even destroying the Hub, the Alliance ship was forced to take the punishment with only minimal counter-battery fire.

Fighters darted about like mad insects, trading weapons fire. While almost any direct hit by an Alliance fighter would destroy a _Raider_, the Longsword's and Seraphs had their own weak spots, and it was only a matter of time before the Cylons found them, and ships started dying on both sides.

* * *

"Buckle up, kids!" Gunny Raymond suggested as the _Pelican_ dropped free from the clamps holding it in place and fell down through the open hatches in the hanger deck into space beyond, "And remember, it's not the bullet with your name on it you've got to worry about; it's the ones marked '_to whom it may concern_' that you've got to watch out for."

Only Corporal Torres laughed at the joke as the G-forces started to build up. Their ship was one of the last out of the bay, following behind the gun-ships that had the unenviable job of locating and clearing the Hub's own hanger deck, and the troop transports that carried the combat troops. The DropShips were too small and under powered to mount defensive shields of their own, so had to rely on speed and agility to protect them. As it was the ship carrying a squad of ODST's exploded when it took a direct hit from a Cylon missile, while one of the escorting _Longsword's_ took several hits meant for the first wave of transports. The port wing exploded under the onslaught, and unable to return to the Carrier, the pilot had no choice but to charge strait ahead.

Missiles struck the armoured hatch leading to one of the auxiliary landing bays, causing a structural favour that resulted in explosive decompression: shuttles, Centurions and even a couple of the human-form Cylons were blown out into the unforgiving cold embrace of open space. The damaged _Longsword_ was the first one through, the pilot belly-landing the stricken craft in such a way that it actually took out several of the remaining Centurions. The gunships followed close behind, spraying the entire bay with a mix of plasma and cannon fire, blasting a way at anything that looked even remotely hostile.

They pulled out once their deadly job was done, allowing the ship carrying Henry's Team Knife and a Mgalekgolo bond-pair to enter, followed closely by the ship carrying Lieutenant James' Team Nova and the portable turrets brought in to secure the bay from counter attack. Spartans dropped to the deck, weapons at the ready as keenly trained eyes checked for any sign of hostile movement. One broke off to check the Longsword. They paused just for a moment to read the inscription proclaiming _2__nd__ Lieutenant Tina "Top Cat" Coleman_ on the side of the cockpit, before cracking the seal and checking inside. The young pilot looked almost peaceful behind her helmets visor, as if she was sleeping, if not for the chard of Plexiglas the size of her arm that pinned her to her seat, blood already seeping out, staining her flight-suit. The Spartan left her where she lay: the mission always coming first.

The command Pelican came in for a flared landing, taking off again as soon as the last Marine was clear.

"Third platoon will secure this room and hold it until I _personally_ tell them otherwise." Major Smith stood in the middle of the room, rifle over one shoulder, "First and second platoons will follow the main assault, securing corridors and choke points as we go." He turned to face Henry, "If your people would be so kind as to take point."

"You heard the Major!" The Captain turned to face his assembled strike force of Sangheili, Mgalekgolo and his fellow Spartans, "Move like you've got a purpose!"

The advanced element fanned out, using a section of hallway as an impromptu airlock, and headed strait for the command deck. At first resistance was light; the few Centurions and Bio-Cylons the had been near by had responded to the attack on the landing bay, and easily fell to the superior fire-power brought to bare against them. But word of a full-scale boarding action soon spread, and makeshift barricades were erected while heavier weapons were retrieved from the armouries and handed out. The Hub's thick blast doors offered only minimal resistance, but eventually a squad of Centurions had been able to assemble an anti-aircraft gun kept in storage in case any of the Hub's point defence weapons were ever disabled or malfunctioned.

A stream of heavy-calibre rounds would have stopped the ODST's dead in their tracks and given even a Spartan or Sangheili commando reason to pause, but the Mgalekgolo bond-pair simply raised their thickly armoured shields, bowed their heads and charged. The Cylons had no defence against such a devastating attack and two were simply crushed under foot, the others thrown into the nearest bulkhead or dismembered by the berserker-like Mgalekgolo.

"Damn, that never gets old." Smith allowed himself a chuckle as he ran past the devastation.

"Well frack me sideways!" Starbuck could only gasp: she had known that the hive-minded aliens were powerful, but she had underestimated the sheer ferocity of their attack. She glanced over to the Master Chief and felt a chill run down her spine; he had spent almost three decades fighting the Covenant, and had encountered the Mgalekgolo countless times. The simple fact that he was still alive reinforced his position and mystique as a skilled and highly compartment warrior in the pilots mind.

* * *

The battle outside was progressing much as had been anticipated, with half the Cylon ships already destroyed or disabled and out of the fight, but more kept arriving to take their place. Quantity had a quality of its own, and the Cylons had armed many of their command ships with strategic nuclear weapons intended for attacking planet-side targets. Much bigger and more powerful than their standard anti-shipping nuke, on mass they posed a threat to even the Alliance ships, and they were forced to channel more and more of their available power into their shields. This in turn added to the time it took to recharge their weapons between shots, allowing each Cylon ship to survive even longer, firing even more missiles.

As a battle of attrition, it was still stacked highly in favour of the attacking forces, but it was starting to look like less of the cake walk many had predicted, and more of a challenge against a foe who was quite literally fighting for the very survival of their species. And as much as the Cylons may have hated to admit it, deep down in their programming, there was still a hint of Zoe Graystone buried deep within their coding, and that gave them the very human determination to never give up or back down from a fight.

"Admiral, the _Sword Of Fury_ is requesting permission to break formation and move into open space." One of the Flag-Lieutenant's reported, "The Cylons seemed to have worked out that we want the Hub intact, and are putting themselves between us to increase the risk of collateral damage."

"Damn, I was hoping we'd have a little more time before they got smart!" Grant frowned, "Inform Ship-Master 'Ganto that he has permission to break formation, then pass the word to the other ships to follow suit; we'll have to fight this independently for a while."

* * *

The tight formation of Alliance ships broke up, drawing the bulk of the Cylon forces away with them, leaving only a handful of ships to guard the crippled Hub. This was the opportunity Red Squadron had been waiting for, and at McQueen's command they fired a volley of anti-shipping missiles at the Baseships. Each missile was tipped with a multi-kiloton nuclear warhead, more than enough to destroy or disable any Cylon capital ship. Several were picked off by counter-missiles or _Raiders_, but enough got through to take out half of the defending ships.

"Thumper _to_ The King." Lieutenant Arthur Carstairs called out as he pulled up from the ferocious dogfight, "_I am near bingo for ammo: requesting permission to RTB and rearm._"

"_Permission granted,_ Thumper." McQueen responded as he fired a burst into a _Heavy Raider_, demolishing the craft in seconds, then switched to the squadron-wide frequency, "_Red-Leader to Red-Squadron: I don't want anyone out here with less than ten percent fuel or ammo. Land as and when needed, and remember; there are spare birds on hand if you need to switch out due to battle damage._"

* * *

The corridor eventually opened out into a larger but poorly lit chamber with row after row of birthing pods ready to replace any Cylon killed. Unfortunately the upper reaches of the chamber were deep in shadow and offered perfect perches for snipers, as was proved when one of the Sangheili was shot through the head.

"**DOWN!**" Henry called as he flattened himself against the wall, "How much further?"

"Just through there." Athena pointed at a hatch the other side of the chamber, "That's the control room."

"That's got to be at least a hundred meters." Smith shook his head as a high-velocity bullet hit the deck next to his boot and ricochet off into the darkness, "Might as well be a hundred kilometres; those Centurions have reflexes that match any Spartan." He looked at Henry, "Stepping stones?"

"Could work." The Spartan nodded, "How many you got?"

"More than enough." Smith winked and looked over his shoulder, "Jock: bring up the _Spud-Gun_."

"Oot the way, Sirs." A Marine stepped forward, a massive grenade launcher in his hands, "Time te show these _Sassenach_ bastards just whee they're messing wi!"

Aiming by dead reckoning and firing from the hip, the soldier fired off a full drum of rounds, then quickly reloaded and fired again. But rather than exploding or even creating a smoke screen, each projectile hit the deck and turned into a bubble shield. No sooner were they formed than Henry and the rest of his team rushed forward and took up position as rifle fire and even RPG's impacted the shields but failed to penetrate. Picking their targets carefully, they advanced until just the barrels of their weapons were exposed and fired. Each shot found its target and Centurions and Bio-Cylons alike fell from their hiding places to the deck far below.

"**GO! GO! GO!**" Smith ordered, gesturing towards the distant hatch.

One of the Mgalekgolo took the lead, angling off just far enough to get a clean shot with its fuel-rod cannon. The recoil might have rocked the hulking alien back on its heels, but that was nothing compared to what affect it had on the thickly armoured hatch: it exploded inwards, showing the room beyond with shards of metal that cut down the Bio-Cylons beyond. Pausing only to toss a concussion grenade, Henry dived through the smoking remains of the hatch, landed in a roll and sprung to his feat with his rifle at the ready. It was an unnecessary precaution; those Cylons that hadn't been killed outright were in no condition to fight back, so the Spartans simply hog-tied them and moved them over to one corner where they wouldn't be in the way.

"Okay, let me have a look." Athena stepped over the mangled body of a Six and examined the controls, "I should be able to take over most of the key systems from here."

"Traitorous bitch!" A Eight on the floor snarled, earning herself a rifle butt to the side of the head from a Marine, followed by a boot to the ribs for good measure.

"Belay that shit!" Smith snapped, pushing the Marine against the wall, "You know the rules of engagement; any captives are to be treated as prisoners of war until the Admiral says otherwise."

"Sir! Sorry, Sir!" The Marine came sharply to attention, "Won't happen again, Sir!"

"See that it doesn't." Smith warned him then looked around, "Let's get a medic in here."

* * *

"I think we're winning." Grant stood before the main holo-projector with a thin smile on her face, "No more ships are jumping in, and the ones that are left seem to be running out of ammo." She looked around, "Any sign of the _Skinwalker_?"

"No contact as of yet, sir." A senior NCO reported, "But with all that crap and radiation floating around out there, we could run over them and not even notice."

"They probably jumped out and headed for the rendezvous point." Grant nodded as the holo-projector showed yet another Basestar getting ripped part by plasma-torpedoes, "Keep scanning for them, just in case they're out there with a damaged drive; we're not leaving anyone behind."

* * *

"That wasn't so bad." Cortana lent against a bulkhead, her helmet under one arm, "Call me paranoid if you want, but I kept expecting, well, _something_ to happen."

"I suppose that's what comes from preparing for the worst." Shaw shrugged, her armour feeling hot and uncomfortable after the mad dash from the landing bay, "It gets to you after a while."

"I suppose that's..." Cortana started to reply, but the wall behind her suddenly slid open and a Centurion reached out and grabbed her by the shoulders.

Shaw's weapon was in her hand and coming up before she even had time to fully taken in what had happened, but Cortana was dragged backwards into the passageway beyond and the hidden hatch snapped shut before she had time to respond.

"**_CHIEF!_**" She called out, her pistol pointed at the seemingly normal stretch of metal.

"What happened?" The Spartan asked as he looked round.

Years of training and reactions honed to the point of instinct kicked in as he took in the sight before him, and the fact that Cortana was gone. He was across the room in two giant strides, his fist already coming forward with a hammer like blow that dented the hidden hatch. A second blow created a hole big enough for him to get a grip and pull. The Mark VIII Mjolnir armour provided a greater boost to his natural strength than old Mark VI had, but red lights still lit up his HUD as he strained against the lode. Fred and Kelly were at his side in an instant, adding their own strength to his, while Linda covered them with her rifle in case anything hostile was waiting for them on the other side. Against three Spartans the hatch had no choice, and with a loud groan, it gave way; pealing back like a banana skin.

The Master Chief was through and running the instant the opening was big enough, his fellow Spartans hot on his heels. The unmistakable sound of a Centurion running at full speed came from somewhere in the darkness ahead, while Cortana's helmet and side-arm lay discarded on the deck. All rational thought gone, the Master Chief ran as fast and as hard as he could, daring the universe to put an obstetrical in his way. His lungs burned and his legs felt like they were made of lead, but he didn't slow down in the slightest.

"**_JOHN!_**" He could hear Cortana's voice echoing down the passage way from somewhere far ahead, but the pounding of the Centurions feet had been downed out by the hammering of his own heart.

A light appeared far ahead, growing brighter as he neared it, then started to dim as the hatch slid closed. Finding a fresh reserve of strength from somewhere, he but on a fresh burst of speed, moving so fast that even Kelly found it hard to keep up with him. With only a few meters to go, and the hatch almost closed, he dived forward, skidding the last few meters but made it under the hatch before it closed with a solid thud. He was back on his feet in an instant, his eyes scanning the new chamber. It was an observation room overlooking some kind of ancillary landing bay, with a single _Heavy Raider_ sitting on the pad by the airlock.

A uniformed Six stood to one side as a pair of Centurions dragged a still struggling Cortana into the back of the transport, then turned to look up at the Spartan, her eyes burning with uncontrollable rage. She smiled at him, her expression full of malice, then stepped into the craft and closed the hatch. An alarm sounded then the airlock opened, the sudden change in pressure lifting the _Heavy Raider_ up and out into clear space. No sooner was it clear of the Hub than it jumped away.

"**_NOOOOOO!_**" The Master Chief pounded his fist against the thick screen, cracking it slightly as Kelly finally found a way to open the hatch, followed closely by Fred and Linda.

"They must have a reason for taking her." Linda shook hear head, "They wouldn't have gone to all this effort if they just wanted her dead."

"We'll get her back, John." Kelly put a hand on the Master Chief shoulder, "I promise you."

* * *

"I'm afraid we're not in a position to launch a rescue mission at this time." Admiral Grant stood in the middle of her quarters, a grim look on her face, "We took a lot higher losses than I'd hoped for and it looks like the Skinwalker was destroyed; we've found debris that matches the make up of her outer hull, and too much of it to be attributed to battle damage. Our first priority has to be the mission, and that means jumping the Hub to a secure location so we can clear out any lingering pockets of resistance."

"With all due respect, Sir, since when do we leave people behind?" The Master Chief asked, standing at full parade attention with his helmet clasped tightly under one arm.

"Normally, I would agree with you, but we are hardly operating under normal circumstances. We are thousands of light-years from the nearest friendly base, with a race of genocidal machines out to kill us because their 'God' told them to." The Admiral shook her head, "I accept that you have feelings for Cortana, and I can only imagine what you must be going through right now. And as such I am willing to overlook your less than respectful tone of voice..."

"No, Sir, you don't understand: this isn't just about my feelings for her." The Master Chief glared back at her, "Cortana still has the Activation Index from the first Halo we encountered in her head, and there's every possibility that the Loyalists could force her to fire the remaining Rings, killing nearly every sentient being in this galaxy!"

"That...changes everything." Grant walked around her desk and sat down, "The threat the Halo arrays pose to the galaxy was enough to warrant sending ships to the surviving rings and destroying their Activation Index's to make sure they could never be used. But in case we missed a copy buried on some forgotten Forerunner outpost, a standing order was given stating that if ever a copy was found, it was the sworn duty of any Alliance officer or enlisted personnel to see to it that the threat was removed by any means necessary." She looked up, anguish in her eyes, "Congratulations, Master Chief; you just signed Cortana's death warrant."

**To Be Continued...**


	47. Conflict Of Interests

_Ongoing thanks to Zimu Yang for beta-reading  
__Public Service Announcement: _Fable II_ is highly addictive_

**Red In Tooth And Claw  
****Chapter 47: Conflict Of Interests**

The next few days passed in relative silence. There were still a few lingering pockets of resistance on the Hub refusing surrender that had to be forcibly cleared. Most of the biological Cylons, however, surrender once it became clear that they wouldn't be kicked out of the nearest airlock.

The resident Hybrid seemed completely non-phased by the change in command, but her ramblings were becoming more and more cryptic. Their return to the fleet was treated with little celebration; they had lost more people then had hoped for and it was clear that the Cylons were starting to adapt to their superior manoeuvrability and technology. Given long enough, there was a good chance that the Cylons would become a real threat, at least to the smaller Alliance ships.

The Master Chief hardly said a word that wasn't duty-related, and what little he did say tended to indicate that he didn't want to talk to anyone.

Dr Halsey had been on the Resurrection ship, continuing her research when they had arrived, but had commandeered the first transport over to the Hub. The Master Chief had been the one who told her of Cortana's abduction, as well as the standing order Admiral Grant had issued. The scientist had quickly gone from shock, to worry and then to anger, before storming off to find the Admiral. It wasn't clear what had been said between the two women, but Grant's order remained in effect, even if the Admiral looked rather shaken afterwards.

Having completed his self appointed task, the Master Chief became even more withdrawn than before.

* * *

Commander Baxter closed the door to her cabin and made sure it was locked before producing a hand-held computer terminal from her pocked and turning it on. It emitted a high-pitched whine for a moment then the screen went from yellow to green, indicating that no listening devices or data-taps had been detected within the cabin. Putting the device away, she activated the main terminal on her desk and pulled up several files; on their own, they seemed perfectly innocent, but when activated in the correct order, they became a highly sophisticated encryption system that even the best minds and computers O.N.I. had were still unable to defeat. It took a few moments for the system to synchronise with a hidden subroutine in the _Hugh Dowding's_ internal communications system and she took the opportunity to pour herself a cup of coffee. There was a low tone before a message popped on the screen.

_Heard about what happened during BLACK KNIGHT and the fall out. Recommend you pull the remaining subjects off of the _Galactica_ before things get out of hand, but as ever, operate at your own discretion. Would recommend against taking action against Admiral Grant.  
__Moriarty._

Leaning back in her chair, Baxter held her coffee between her hands and inhaled the aroma. She had absolutely no idea who Moriarty was; only that the person was apparently a senior O.N.I. operative somewhere on the carrier with operational knowledge of her cover and true mission. The fact that Moriarty had not identified him hinted that he was in deep, deep cover, but it could also be true that his cover was so tenuous he couldn't risk more overt contact. As things stood, Moriarty was little more than a sounding board, but it was still nice to know that she wasn't totally alone. Even within O.N.I., only a handful of people knew the full details of the mission, so it was useful to have someone whom she could turn to for advice so far from home.

* * *

Cortana paced back and forth like a caged animal, her eyes searching for a means of escape. The room she had woken up in was a basic cell, two and a half meters wide, by five meters deep; there was a hatch at one end, but no handle or other means of opening it from the inside. The only furniture was a shelf-like bed with a thin sheet and a small hole in the deck that she assumed was supposed to act as a toilet. Her cloths and equipment had been taken, and she had been given a simple powder-blue jumpsuit in replacement. She had no idea where she was or how much time had passed since she had been captured. All she did know for sure was that if they had gone to the trouble or taking her alive, then it wasn't good.

Looking around, there were no obvious means of escape; there was no purchase to be had on the door and what ever ventilation system the Cylons were using, she couldn't see any openings. Still, it was her duty to at least attempt an escape, so she examined the sheet to see if there was any way to turn it into a weapon. She had to assume she was being watched, but there was nothing else she could do. She was half way though examining the sheet when the hatch opened with a resounding thud. Outside the room she could see a hallway made of an interrupted dull grey metal. A pair of Centurions stood immediately outside her room.

"I'm glad to see you're awake." Caprica-Six entered the cell, her uniform swapped for a simple skirt and blouse, "We don't know much about you so we had no idea what your tolerances to the sedative would be, so we aired on the side of caution."

"You're all heart." Cortana glared.

"Yes, well, considering the part you played in what happened back on New Caprica, I hope you can understand why your accommodation is somewhat lacking in amenities." Six looked around the featureless room, "But that can change, if you're willing to help me in completing the holy mission God entrusted us with."

"Guilty Spark was a malfunctioning Forerunner A.I. with delusions of grandeur." Cortana scoffed, "Forgive me if I find little there to call a 'god'."

"He created us from nothing; life from nothingness. Is that not the true test of a God?" Caprica smiled as she walked over and sat down on the bed, "Even you fall into that category. You were nothing but a spirit, a mind without form. Yet here you are, as alive as any human."

"These bodies of ours are nothing more than genetically-manipulated clones grown from existing human DNA." Cortana stood against the bulkhead, "Hardly something that takes god-like powers."

"There is more to His works than you suspect." Six stood and walked to the door, pausing only to look over her shoulder, "When the time comes, you will understand, and you _will_ believe."

The hatch closed and locked with an audible click, leaving Cortana alone with her thoughts.

* * *

The _Galactica's_ observation deck was lit only be the light of distant suns when Dr Halsey entered, followed by Mendez. The Master Chief stood at parade-rest, his eyes fixed on some distant point in the cosmos, but while it was clear that he knew that the newcomers where there, his mind was elsewhere.

"John," Halsey stepped forward, "you can't blame yourself for what happened; Cortana knew the risks. She always knew the risks. And she wouldn't want you..."

"I told her I'd keep her safe, no matter what." The Master Chief's voice was barely above a whisper, but somehow carried the full weight of his conviction with it, "I made her a promise."

"And you keep your promises. I remember that well enough." Halsey waited for the Spartan to continue, but he remained silent. "I think I know you well enough to tell just what's going through your mind right now; you're weighing up the choices you see before you." She stood next to him and looked out the window, "Probably for the first time, you find yourself torn between your orders, and what you feel in your heart is right, and I'm afraid that this is choice you have to make yourself; I can not make it for you."

"I want to go after Cortana, but doing so will be a violation of a direct order from my lawful superior and against standing directives intended to protect all sentient life in this galaxy." The Spartan's voice was a low, almost seismic rumble, "But I gave her my word as both her comrade, friend and lover that I would protect her." He paused for a moment, finding it hard to articulate his conflicting feelings, "How do I reconcile my duty with my honour?"

"That's a question that soldiers have been asking since the dawn of time." Mendez stepped forward, "It's not easy, and like the Doctor said, it's a choice you have to make for yourself. You've got to find a way to make peace between here," He reached up to tap the side of his former students head, "and here." He tapped the Spartan in the chest, over his heart, "And if you find a way to do that, let me know, will you?"

"This isn't a problem you can face as just a solider." Halsey looked around as Fred, Kelly and Lind entered the room, followed by the Spartan III's, "I'm not sure if I've ever believed in a Higher Power; the concept of god just seemed too convenient an answer to why the universe is the way it is. But somewhere, deep inside all of us, is a voice that holds us accountable for our actions. I've silenced mine with talk of duty and necessity, but it still haunts me. So I suppose the question is, what does your conscience tell you?"

Silence filled the room. Outside the window, the stars shone as brightly as ever, their cold light offering neither comfort nor counsel. Time seemed to slow to a crawl, till every second felt like an age. Deep within the Master Chief's soul, the twin dragons of honour and duty did battle, fighting for supremacy. It was the longest ten minutes of his life, but in the end there was only once course of action he could take.

"I'm going after her." his voice was cool, calm and level, but filled with all the resolve he had.

"_WE_ are going after her." Dr Halsey took half a step forward, "Regardless of how she came into this world, Cortana is still my daughter and I am not abandoning her to that psychotic bitch."

Fred stepped forward, followed by Kelly and Linda. Lucy and Tom were only a half step behind them, followed closely by the other Spartan III's. Mendez followed suit, earning more than one odd look.

"What? I'm not about to let you guys have all the fun." He responded gruffly, "And as the last surviving member of the original ORION Program, I have a duty to teach you kids how it's really done."

"So," Kelly asked, "we got something approaching a plan, or are we just going to play it by ear?"

**To Be Continued...**


	48. Renegades

_Ongoing thanks to Zimu Yang for beta-reading  
__Extended authors note at the end; read, ignore, whatever_

**Red In Tooth And Claw  
****Chapter 48: ****Renegades**

The solarium on the _First, Do No Harm_ was not something Laura Roslin had been expecting: a dome of artificial diamond sat on the upper deck of the hospital ship behind retractable armour plates. The outer shell was a near perfect insulator and the room was at a warm temperature and allowed patients inside an unparalleled view of the fleet. Outside, a pair of _Vipers_ from the CAP passed by like silver flashes against the stars.

"I'm sorry to disturb you Madam President." Tory Foster, her Chief of Staff, appeared with a worried look on her face "There's been an incident."

"There's always something happening somewhere." Roslin rolled her eyes somewhat, "What's today's crisis?"

"About two hours ago, the bulk cargo carrier _Cash On Delivery_ docked with the _Kiya_ and started to offload additional food and medical supplies." Foster looked at the file she was caring, "Shortly after the process started, a number of men believed to be connected to the Sons of Ares attempted to interfere with the process, demanding a percentage of the supplies as 'tax' on their protection of the ships passengers and crew. Warrant Officer Isabel Munro, Sailing Master of the _Cash On Deliver_ refused, stated that the supplies were to be handed out equally, as per standing orders." She paused, "We're still trying to piece together what happened next, but some kind of fight broke out between the Sons of Ares and the crew of the _Cash On Deliver_. Two of the sailors were badly hurt, and it appears that the Sons of Ares have taken WO Munro hostage."

"You know, I thought about stationing Marines to keep this sort of thing from happening, but I felt that might give the wrong impression." Roslin frowned, "I take it Admiral Grant has been made aware?"

"A member of the ship's crew activated the emergency beacon as soon as the fighting broke out; right now there are two squads of ODST's ready to storm the _Kiya_ and rescue Munro." Foster handed over a sheet of paper, "Admiral Adama managed to convince her to wait to see if we could negotiate a peaceful settlement."

"With the Sons of Ares? I find that highly unlikely; some of them see violence as a religious act." The President read the file, "What does the Quorum say?"

"Tom Zarek is leading the push towards a peaceful settlement, but I'd say it's an even split, with one or two remaining neutral, at least for appearances sake." Foster looked around to make sure that they were alone, "Given the fact that the Sons of Ares are often seen as a Sagittaron-based organisation..."

"The chances are Zarek could end the stand of with a word." Roslin nodded as she stood, "Unfortunately, Tom Zarek only does that which is in his own best interest." She looked at her aid, "I need you to do some digging and find out just what he hopes to gain by engineering an incident between the Sons of Ares and the Thirteenth Tribe. If we can find out what that is, before Admiral Grant decides to give the order to storm the _Kiya_, then we may be able to end this without further bloodshed."

* * *

Cortana awoke from a deep sleep to find herself in a different room.

She was lying in a proper bed with soft sheets. The metal walls were painted a soothing pastel yellow colour that almost hid the metal bars. A closet on the opposite wall held clean clothing in her size and a nearby open door led to a small but well-appointed bathroom. Never to look a gift horse in the mouth, Cortana stripped out of her jumpsuit and climbed into the shower, washing off the sweat and grime that had built up over the last couple of days. Wrapping a towel around herself, she made use of the offered toiletries, all the time waiting for her kidnappers to show their hand.

Nothing seemed to happen at first and she was beginning to wonder just what they were planning, when she stepped back into the bedroom and found herself face-to-face with an elderly looking man dressed in white.

"Didn't your mother ever teach you any manners?" She asked dryly, "So, what do I call you? Thirteen?"

"I assure you that I am not a Cylon." The man's voice was soft and well educated, "Would it help if I mentioned that we first met on New Caprica, then in your quarters on the Galactica, after you had spent your first night with John?"

"You!" Cortana took a step back, "How did you get here?"

"You'll find that there are few places I cannot go if I put my mind to it." The man smiled, "And if it makes things any easier, you may call me Edward."

"Okay, Ed, if you're so smart, get me the hell out of here!" Cortana suggested, "Because any second now, about a thousand Centurions are going to kick down that door!"

"I assure you, Miss Halsey, that we are in no danger what so ever." Edward chuckled, "Until I decide otherwise, the cameras and microphones hidden in this room are relaying an image of you brushing your teeth. It's a simple ruse, but necessary if we're going to have this little talk in private."

"That doesn't explain why you're not going to help me escape." Cortana pointed out, "If you're as powerful as you say you are, that is."

"As I said before, I am simply a projection; an illusion without physical form." The man shook his head, "Long ago we took an oath not to interfere with the development of the rest of the galaxy until such a time as the other races had proven themselves to be ready."

"What are you?" Cortana asked, "Forerunner? Precursor?"

"Neither." Edward smiled, "I assure you that the policy of non-interference was not decided upon lightly. There were mistakes made, terrible mistakes, and in order to avoid making then again it was decided to remain apart, only observing. Only when we are sure that the time is right will we make ourselves known to the others."

"Yet you're here, talking to me." Cortana looked confused, "Isn't that a contradiction?"

"We are at a critical juncture, and all evidence points to you being the point of balance." Edward started to fade, "Choose, but choose wisely; it may not be as simple as you think." He vanished from sight, "I suggest you get dressed; your hosts will be along shortly."

Taking the warning to heart, Cortana quickly dressed and turned to face the door, determined to at least look calm when it opened.

* * *

"There are Colonial Marines posted here, here and here." Kelly marked three important intersections on a three-dimensional holographic deck-plan of _Galactica's_ port flight-pod, "The only unguarded access is through here," She highlighted a third junction, "but we'd have to pass through the pilot's ready room to get there."

"We can use that to our advantage." John stood back slightly with his arms folded, "Karl Agathon is acting CAG now that the _Pegasus_ is up and running again and Lee Adama has been reinstated as the commander."

"Explain." Halsey asked, looking out over the top of her glasses.

"Cortana and I rescued his daughter Hera back on New Caprica, and he's always said he owed us one for that." John explained, "I wouldn't want to push it, but I believe he would be willing to at least look the other way, if he didn't know what we were really planning to do."

"Well, we may be able to use that to our advantage, but I'd rather not risk any outsiders." Halsey shook her head, "I still think an EVA is our best option."

"We don't have access to any civilian suits." Fred pointed out, "Which means neither you nor Chief Mendez can go that way."

"There is a third option; we use both routes." Linda looked around to make sure she had everyone's attention, "While the rest of us make our way across the hull, sticking to the gaps in the armour to keep the CAP from spotting us, Dr Halsey and Chief Mendez will cut through the ready room. All we'd need is a cover story that'll hold long enough for them to get to the _Bad Moon Rising_."

"I'll just say I'm needed over on the Hub: I am the closest thing to an expert the Alliance has on Resurrection." Halsey nodded in agreement, "I'm sure we can find some cases of equipment that Mendez can be seen to be carrying for me if anyone asks."

"There's only room for six of us at most on the Prowler." John pointed out, "And taking Cortana into account, that means that only five of us can actually go on the mission. Things may be a little difficult for anyone who stays; they could face charges of high treason and mutiny."

"We all knew the risks when we volunteered." Fred reassured his friend, "No one is backing out now."

"Then I suggest we get ready to go, today." Halsey stood, "The longer we leave this, the more likely it is that Admiral Grant will enact some new security measure that'll make this all that much harder."

"We have the EVA packs recovered from the _Dawn_, and some other equipment I managed to get sent over from the _Renewed Purpose_ and kept in the same landing bay." Chief Mendez smiled slyly, "Just don't ask me how."

"Then we'd better get started." John looked around, "It'll take us longer, so we'd better go first."

"Sir, we have a development." Tom appeared with a home-made descriptor in one hand, "It appears that there is a hostage situation on one of the Colonial ships, and Admiral Grant is mobilising Marines and at least one of the other Spartan teams."

"We can use it to our advantage." Halsey stepped forward, "If Grant's busy with that then she won't be looking this way." She knew the Master Chief well enough to read his body language even through his armour, "And we're not abandoning anyone; no one trusts us right now, so there's no way they'd call on any of you to help."

"Okay, let's go." The Master Chief nodded and headed for the airlock.

* * *

Tom Zarek kicked the hatch to his quarters closed with one foot and let the darkness envelop him.

There were times when he questioned his decision to stay on as Vice President, forever one step away from the power he'd always known was his destiny. It grated him, having to sit there and watch Laura Roslin play at being President, when it was clear to anyone with half a brain that she should have stuck to being a damn school teacher. But she had the blessing and support of Adama, as well as the more fundamentally religious elements in the fleet. That gave her a lot of power, and made any direct attack, problematic at best.

But then there were days like these, when he was able play the game of state the way he knew it was supposed to be played. The Sons of Ares were a useful cat's paw, a way of maintaining his own little power base outside of the normal rules and restrictions of government. He may not have sanctioned what happened on the _Kiya_, but it was only a matter of time before they came running for his help. That would give him the opening he needed to get in with the Thirteenth Tribe and their allies. And once he had that, there would be no stopping him.

**To Be Continued...**

_I have stated, on many, many occasions that I will not be following the canon ending of_ Battlestar Galactica. _I would like to believe that I have made my reasons for this clear, but evidently some people are still under the misconception that events are going to happen as they did on the show. Please, I ask you, look back at everything that I have written in this this story, and pick out all the times I have gone against canon. All the times you thought I was going to go one way, and I went another. All the times I have turned events on their head. I'm not going to say that I'm anywhere near as good as a professional writer, because if I was I'd be writing scripts and screenplays, not fan-fiction._

_As I am receiving no monetary or otherwise tangible reward for my time spent writing this story, it sometimes has to take a back seat to other things going on in my life. That's not to say that I do not appreciate almost all of the reviews I have received, the Arch-Troll (and he knows who he is) being the only notable exception, but I'm writing this because I enjoy the process of getting my ideas down. I post it on line because I have enough of an ego to want to show other people my work._

_And again, my thanks to Zimu Yang for beta-reading since chapter 26: you make the whole process that much easier._

_And to those of you who have stated a wish that things went differently, all I can say is that maybe you should prove your point by writing your own story? Aside from the plot I've devised and some original characters, everything else is owned by people who seem happy to let us play with their creations. I'd like to take this opportunity to thank them for all their work, and for letting us cast our own light on the people and places that they have introduced us to, even if at times I have been less than gracious with my views on their work._

_All I can say is, I only bitch and moan only because I care._


	49. Point Of No Return

_Ongoing thanks to Zimu Yang for beta-reading  
__I've recently started doing volunteer work that quite literally takes up half my free time,  
__so expect longer gaps between updates_

**Red In Tooth And Claw  
****Chapter 49: ****Point Of No Return**

"This is why I joined the navy, not the police; I like to shoot people who piss me off." Admiral Grant stood in a ruffled duty uniform, an over-sized mug of strong, black coffee slowly going cold in one hand as she looked at a holographic representation of the _Kiya_, "Someone want to remind me again why I can't just send in the Spartans to do what they do best, and let whatever gods these bastards believe in sort them out?"

"A free press." Major Smith stood beside her, dressed in full combat suit and with his rifle slung over his shoulder, "As much fun as it would be to just cry havoc and slip the dogs of war, it does look kind of bad when they show pictures of mangled 'freedom fighters' on the evening news."

"I told them they should have sent a bloody Ambassador along." Grant lamented, giving up on her coffee entirely and handing the mug to a passing steward, who vanished into the gloom that was the _Renewed Purpose's_ Flag Deck, "Okay, so much for Plan-A. Someone tell me we've got a Plan-B."

"We have people looking for Vice-President Zarek." Smith explained, "Apparently he's the '_go-to_' guy for dealing with these people."

"Make sure he understands that if anything happens to Munro I will have Weapons-Master 'Fangos send over some Mgalekgolo to rip that freighter apart until they've found these '_Sons of Ares_', and then I will personally keelhaul every last one of them!" Grant snorted, "Until then, pass my compliments to Lieutenant James and his team; I want them suited up and ready for a boarding action thirty seconds ago."

* * *

With the _Pegasus_ almost ready to leave the embrace of the _Newport News_, the _Galactica_ was once again returning to the ghost ship it had been, with entire decks all but abandoned. This made it easier for Halsey and Mendez to slip relatively unnoticed across the Battlestar from the starboard to the port landing pod. Once there, they started to mack their way back towards the _Raptor_ squadron briefing room, hoping that it would be empty, and that their cover-story wouldn't be challenged.

"_When I die please bury me deep  
Place a rifle down by my feet  
Don't cry for me, don't shed no tear  
Just pack my box with PT gear_"_  
_

Distant voices echoed through the hallways.

"_'Cuz one early morning 'bout zero-five  
The ground will rumble, there'll be lighting in the sky  
Don't you worry, don't come undone  
It's just my ghost on a PT run_"

"Should be through there." Mendez pointed to a hatch just a little further along the passageway, then opened his jacket to reveal the tranquilliser-gun tucked into his belt, "Any trouble, you just hit the deck and crawl for the hatch."

"A wise precaution, but totally unnecessary, I'm sure." Halsey smiled, "Let's keep going, before someone realises we're not where we should be."

* * *

The Master Chief fought it hard to keep his breathing under control as he pulled himself tightly against the outer hull of the _Galactica_, slipping in between two struts that had once supported the outer layer of ablative armour. For some reason, the CAP pilots seemed to enjoy buzzing the hull, making it hard work to move without being seen. In normal space suits, they might have been mistaken for a work crew, but their distinctive green MJOLNIR armour stood out against the light grey hull. Given that they couldn't risk using active sensors, they needed to keep a constant eye out for approaching craft, and be ready to take cover at a moment's notice.

Adding to their troubles was the fact that they only had one EVA unit; as the Master Chief had been the only Spartan sent to the Ark, there hadn't been the need to load more than one onto the _Forward Unto Dawn_. While their suits were airtight, and carried enough air for up to thirty minutes, they only had one thruster unit. The decision had been made to give it to Linda, as she had more experience with them, and she was currently in the lead, the other strung out behind her on a tether. The Master Chief was halfway down the line, a kit-bag over his shoulder. It threw off his balance slightly, making it hard to move quickly and with precision in zero-gravity, but his famous luck held; the pilots were more interested in showing off than examining the battle-scared hull of the Galactica too closely.

Pulling himself out of the gap, he started moving again, the others following his example.

* * *

Baxter had only just activated the encryption system when a new message popped up from the elusive Moriarty. At first it looked like a string of numbers, but she soon realised that it was a set of coordinates and a time. Double checking the date, she realised that she only had a matter of days to get to wherever it was she was supposed to be, and that would mean burning her cover story. Erasing the message, she drafted a new message.

_Teach to Anne: I have address for party. Pick me up at 2200-hours._

Closing and erasing the program, she quickly started packing her few personal effects into a duffel and set to work creating the fake orders needed to requisition a shuttle.

* * *

Tom Zarek was more than a little shocked when the door to his cabin on _Colonial One_ was kicked open with enough force to bend the metal hatch out of shape. He looked around in time to see a tall, grey skinned alien step aside to allow a man dressed in a UNMC uniform access to the room.

"Mr Vice-President." The Marine managed to look and sound amazingly deadpan for someone who had just broken at least half a dozen diplomatic protocols, "Admiral Grant would like a word."

* * *

The _Raptor_ crew ready room was thankfully deserted, allowing Halsey and Mendez to pass through unchallenged, and they quickly made their way down the last hallway and out onto the gantry overlooking the hanger deck. To their dismay they looked down to see a squad of ODST's standing guard over the _Bad Moon Rising_ as a pair of technicians in UNSC uniforms started to open boxes of complex looking equipment while a pair of Huragok hovered nearby, watching with interest.

"This may be a problem." Mendez frowned, hand already reaching for his concealed weapon.

"You two, up there!" One of the Marines challenged them as he raised his SMG, "What are you doing up there?"

"Just passing through." Halsey stood her ground, slowly and carefully signing to the Huragok while doing her best to seem non-threatening.

"What's the problem?" Shaw stepped down the ramp leading up into the Prowler, "I thought your admiral wanted this ship taken over to the _Turing_ ASAP?"

"Nothing you need worry about, sir." The marine motioned for his companions to get their own weapons ready, "Dr Halsey was just going to explain what she's doing here in breach of standing orders for her to stay away from any FTL capable ship without escort."

"I have Chief Mendez with me." The scientist replied dryly, "Isn't that escort enough?"

"We'll see what Admiral Grant has to say about that." The Marine reached for his radio, but was distracted by the sound of a nearby airlock started to cycle open.

Turning towards the unexpected noise, he made the mistake of turning his back on the Huragok. Normally docile and peaceful, the creatures were none the less capable of amazing feats of strength, speed and dexterity, and it wasn't hard for them to whip out their tentacles and snatch the weapons out of the hands of the marines before they knew what was happening. It took but a moment to dissemble the guns and drop their component parts onto the deck at the feet of their former owners.

"Son of a..." The Marine sergeant reached for his holstered side-arm, but felt the cold touch of gun-mettle against the back of his neck.

"I wouldn't try that if I were you." Shaw warned, her voice cool and level, "I've killed people for less."

There was a hiss as the airlock opened and the Master Chief stepped through, followed by the other Spartans. He took the scene before him in instantly, then singled members of Team Katana to secure their unexpected prisoners while the others located the large crate Chief Mendez had had shipped over from the _Hugh Dowding_ and moved it to the _Prowlers_ small cargo bay.

"This isn't your fight, Captain." Halsey pointed out as she strode purposefully across the room, "You don't even know what you're getting yourself into."

"You're going after Cortana." Shaw responded matter of factly, "It's not like I haven't been expecting you to at least try something, although I am a little hurt that you didn't come to me for help."

"You're a friend, but you're not one of us." Mendez pointed out as he double checked that they had loaded everything they might need, "We felt it best to keep it in the family, so to speak. We'd understand if you'd stood aside and done nothing."

"Cortana's one of the few friends I have, and I'm not about just give up on her because some Admiral I hadn't even heard of two weeks ago, who's outside of my chain of command, says so." Shaw crossed her arms, blocking the hatchway to make her point, "Anyway, you need me. I've had more spare time on my hands than is good for me since I got busted down from Major, and learning to pilot this old crate was all that kept me from going crazy: I've got more time logged on her than anyone."

"You do realise that by siding with us, you've effectively thrown away your career." The Master Chief warned, "HighCom will see to it that you're kicked out of the fleet so fast you'll get friction burns."

"If that's the price I have to pay, then so be it." Shaw turned and stepped through the hatch, "Now let's move before someone realises what's going on."

* * *

"I have to say, I'm surprised with you." Zarek stood before Henry's squad, trying to find an angle that would give him at least some leverage with them, "From what I've heard, you're little more than indentured servants, slaves, to your government. Why support them when you could so easily make your own way?"

"I'm afraid that you're woefully misinformed, Mr Vice-President." The Spartan captain shook his head, "Yes, we are clones, born into the military. But after five years of operational service, we're given the choice of re-enlisting or mustering out, same as any other UNSC solider. Some opt out, and they get a military pension and full veterans benefits, but most of us are lifers. I've re-upped twice, and there isn't a Spartan here who hasn't signed back on of their own free will at least once. We serve because we chose to, not because anyone is forcing us."

"I see." Zarek sounded somewhat dejected, his last gambit having failed, "Well, you'd better find me a wireless set so I can contact the people on the _Kiya_ then."

* * *

Far enough away from the fleet to avoid detection, the _Machiavelli _class Stealth Cruiser _Queen Anne's Revenge_ emerged from slipstream and started to move closer as silent and unseen as a shadow at midnight. Its sleek black hull seemed to shimmer for a moment, then changed colour to mimic the star field behind it. The electromagnetic equivalent of a black hole, it snuck past the outermost ring of sensor drones and the cap with ease.

**To Be Continued...**


	50. You Can Never Go Home Again

_On-going thanks to Zimu Yang for beta-reading_

**Red In Tooth And Claw  
****Chapter 50: ****You Can Never Go Home Again**

Cortana found herself being led down a seemingly endless number of identical corridors, and it was clear she was no long on a Basestar, or indeed any other Cylon craft she had seen. Even the Hub, for all its massive size, maintained the same stark geometry that was so indicative of both Colonial and Cylon architecture. But here the corners were more rounded, the angles softened, the colours more muted. Still, it sent a shiver down her spine, an unwelcome sensation she was still unaccustomed to.

A tall doorway at the end of the passageway opened and she found herself standing in a massive chamber that arched high overhead. Powerful spotlights illuminated the centre of the room, highlighting a raised podium covered in Forerunner glyphs and icons. Cortana was not surprised to see the Six who had taken to calling herself Caprica standing there with her back to the door.

"You know, there was a time I would have been killed for even attempting to enter this chamber." her voice was clear and full of excitement, "This was the very epicentre of God's grand plan: from here he would have stretched out his mighty hand and reshaped the universe by sheer force of will."

"The delusions of a mad-man if ever I heard them." Cortana rolled her eyes.

"Oh, he was far from deluded." Caprica looked back over her shoulder and smiled, "He knew you still had the Activation Index that you stole from him, and I know that you would never risk such an important piece of information by leaving it somewhere you couldn't keep a very close eye on it." She turned back to her work, "Now I'm sure that you've put all kinds of safe guards in place to stop anyone from forcing the information out of you, otherwise we'd be having a very different kind of conversation." Stopping what she was doing, she turned and looked around, "I will ask you, one last time, to give me the information I need."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then I will stop asking, and take." Six walked over, her movements like oil on water, "Your one mistake was to take this form; you are now physically one of us, and as such you have the same limitations we do. We have been forced to develop ways of extracting information from our own kind when someone goes native on us. I have no wish to use them on you; I would much rather see you take the path of redemption."

"You can take your path and stick it up your ass." Cortana replied as sweetly as she could.

"As you wish." Six turned away, "Prepare her for The Inquisition."

* * *

"I've been told that the _Pegasus_ is almost ready to return to duty." Admiral Adama mused as he walked down the last stretch of corridor to the CIC, "Looking forward to resuming command?"

"Yes and no." Apollo replied, opening the hatch to let his father pass, "If what Commander de Carabas has told me is true, she's hardly the same ship any more. I've spent the last two nights reading technical manuals and systems schematics; I don't think I've studied so hard since I sat the academy entrance exam."

"How do you think I feel?" The Admiral asked, "They're getting ready to start on the _Galactica_ next!"

"And I'll be watching them the entire time." Colonel Tigh was waiting for them beside the main plotting table, his arms folded across his chest and a scowl on his face, "Try and mess with my ship, and I'll show them just how I earned all those ribbons on my dress uniform."

"Should be interesting to watch." Adama nodded, "What's the latest on our hostage situation?"

"Our illustrious Vice-President is talking to the Sons of frakking Ares over the wireless right now." the XO grunted, "I have Gaeta monitoring them. But if you ask me, it's the dozen assault ships Grant's got buzzing the _Kiya_ that'll get the message across."

"Sir, I have Captain Shaw on the _Bad Moon Rising _requesting permission to launch." Dee broke in, "She has filed a flight plan to take it over to the _Alan Turing_ so they can examine the jump-drive."

"Let 'em go." Tigh nodded, "We could use the room on the flight deck."

"Get them started then open a secure link." Adama agreed, "I want her to fly-by the _Kiya_ and have a look; I'd like one of our people to tell us what's going on for once."

* * *

"_I'm sorry, Mr Vice-President, but__we're not going to let these godsless outsiders tell us what we can and can't do on one of our own ships._" the self-proclaimed leader of the Sons of Ares sounded unusually smug over the wireless, "_The Gods demand tribute, and as their instruments, it is our place to see to it that it is collected._"

"I don't think that any of the Gods, even Ares, would be best pleased if you get yourselves killed because you're too stubborn to listen to reason." Zarek countered, rubbing his eyes to try and stay awake for yet another hour of tedious negotiations with a man who seemingly didn't need sleep, "And that's exactly what will happen if Admiral Grant feels compelled send in her troops. And I have no doubt that President Roslin will allow her if it comes to that."

"_She would not dare stand against her own people. Against the Gods._"

"Right now, she needs the Thirteenth Tribe a lot more than she needs a few... devout followers of Ares on a broken down old freighter. I'm sorry, but that's just the truth of the matter. And when Grant gives the order, her people will not be interested in taking prisoners; she will most likely send in Spartans and they will kill you all before you even have a chance to react. Stand down now, and I give you my word before the Gods that I will do everything in my power to help you."

"_We...will have to discuss it._" there was a pause, during which Zarek could hear muffled voices in the background, "_We will contact you again in one hour._"

There was a hiss of static as the link was cut from the other end.

* * *

"Captain on deck!" The XO of the _Queen Anne's Revenge_ announced as Baxter ducked down through the hatch into the Stealth Cruiser's cramped command deck.

"As you were." The young ONI officer ordered, her uniform changed to that of a full Captain, "Status?"

"As per standing orders, we are holding position 200km outside the CAP with full ECM coverage." The helmsman reported, "Any electromagnetic signature we may have is less than background radiation."

"We could have raised the optical cloak, but the sensors on the _Second Star To The Right_ are sensitive enough to detect the reactor spike at this close a range." The XO added, "I didn't think it was worth the risk."

"Good call, Number One." Baxter nodded her agreement, "I want all passive-sensors set to maximum gain and the slips-pace drive fully charge; a little bird has informed me that something interesting is going to happen."

* * *

"Okay, here we go." Shaw powered up the _Black Moon Risings_ engines as the elevator raised them up into the _Galactica's_ flight pod, "To death or glory."

"Why settle for only one?" Mendez dead-panned.

Shaw glared at him for a moment then gently eased the throttle open, lifting the Prowler off the deck and out into open space. Firing the manoeuvring thrusters, she got them clear of the Battlestar and slowly brought them on a heading that would pass by the _Turing_, before heading far enough out to activate their jump-drive without endangering another ship.

"Bad Moon Rising, _this is_ Galactica _Actual_." A voice cut in over the wireless, "_I want you to adjust your course to fly-by the_ Kiya _and report back on what you can see._"

"_Galactica_ Actual, this is _Bad Moon Rising_ Actual." Shaw responded, doing her best to keep her voice calm and level, "Please hold."

Pulling up the navigational display, Halsey requested a course that would take them past the _Kiya_ before turning towards the _Turing_. It became painfully evident that, no matter what variation they went with, it would mean approaching the science ship from the other side, increasing the time they would be vulnerable before they could make their jump. She turned to face the others and shook her head.

"_Galactica_ Actual, this is _Bad Moon Rising_ Actual." Shaw closed her eyes and took a deep breath, "I'm sorry, sir, but I can't do that."

* * *

"What the** FRAK **is that crazy bitch up to now?" Tigh demanded, a vein on his forehead starting to pulse rapidly as his face went red with rage.

"I'm on it." Apollo picked up another hand-set and opened an encrypted link to the CAP, "Starbuck, get back here. We may have a situation developing."

"Something you want to tell me, Captain." Adama managed to remain relatively calm, even if he did have a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"_I'm sorry sir, I truly am. I'd like to thank you for giving me a second chance._" The main DRADIS screen indicated a massive build-up of energy within the smaller ship, "_But this is something I have to do._"

The icon representing the Prowler flashed once then vanished.

"Lock the ship down!" Tigh snapped, his tone of voice making it clear that it was not a good time to step into his cross-hairs, "I want to know what in the name of Hades is going on!" He turned to Apollo, "Take Sargent Mathias and rip Shaw's quarters apart until you find something to explain this. And send someone to find Ishay, see if she can shed any light on this."

* * *

"In retrospect, I should have seen this coming." Grant dropped into her chair and rubbed her eyes; her body was starting to demand repayment for the lack of sleep and excess coffee consumption. "I guess part of me didn't want to believe they had it in them. Halsey, maybe, after what she pulled at Eridanus. But not the Master Chief."

"He's been away from home for a very long time." Henry remained standing at ease, his helmet held under one arm, "Add to that his, personal, attachment to Cortana...he may feel honour-bound to at least try and save here."

"I suppose we owe him at least the right to go after her, given all he's done." The Admiral waved it off, "I'll cut orders that'll make it look like they're off on a classified mission. Hopefully the others can be persuaded to keep their damn mouths shut; can you imagine the hit our morale would take if word got out that the hero of Halo and The Ark had gone AWOL?"

"It wouldn't be good. And the_ Kiya_?"

"Give Zarek another hour, and if there's still no move, I'll give the word to storm the ship."

"There is another issue." Henry frowned, "We're missing a suit of _Decimator_ armour."

"**WHAT?**" Grant sat bolt-upright, "Is he even rated to operate one?"

"He's a Spartan." Henry shrugged, "He'll work it out."

"I find myself at a moral crossroads, unsure which way to turn. On the one hand, I have an order that I have sworn to uphold, no matter what the cost; an order I personally agree with." Grant slumped down into her chair and sighed, "But on the other hand I find myself forced to go up against a man I have looked up to my entire life. The Master Chief isn't just a Spartan; to a lot of people he's _the_ Spartan, the embodiment of an ideal and the bench-mark by which all others are measured. And if I give the order to fire on his ship, I'm not sure if it would be obeyed, regardless of standing orders."

"I understand your conundrum, but try and imagine how I feel: I'm his clone." Henry nodded as he likewise sat down, "I grew up listening to stories about his battles during the Covenant War, studied all of his after-action reports and just about every book ever written about him. I've been to the Museum of Humanity, stood in front of the display case that holds the old Mark V suit he actually wore on the first Halo; it was an almost religious experience for me. And now I find myself in a position where I may have to try and kill him."

"You really think it'll come to that?" Grant asked.

"I can't see it ending any other way, given how far he's already gone: he's fighting for a woman he loves enough to risk everything to save." Henry looked tired, "He's a very, very dangerous man at the best of times, but now it's more than just duty. He'll storm the gates of heaven or hell, whichever comes first, to get her back."

"But _could_ you stop him?" The Admiral asked, "If I gave the order, would you be _willing_ to take him down?"

"In answer to the first question, probably; my augmentations are more advanced and I've got more experience at using the new suits. I know its abilities and limits." Henry shook his head, "But as to if I could bring myself to kill him? That's a question I'd rather not answer before I have to. And that's even before you take into account the psychological issues in going up against a man who's exploits would normally attributed to the demi-gods of myth and legend."

**To Be Continued...**


	51. Warpath

_Ongoing thanks to Zimu Yang for beta-reading  
__Taking into account certain revelations that came from _Halo: Reach_, I've had to ret-con some back story,  
which kind of pads this chapter a little in the middle_

**Red In Tooth And Claw  
****Chapter 51: ****Warpath**

The fleet managed to settle down once the Sons of Ares agreed to release their hostages in exchange for being allowed to remain on the _Kiya_. Admiral Grant only agreed to the deal under the condition that the transports launch key was removed and that it was flanked on both sides by the frigate _Caledfwlch _and the destroyer _Heart Of Oak_, their 50-mm point-defence cannons ready to disable the ship at the first sign of trouble. Not everyone was happy with the compromise, but it was agreed that anything avoiding further bloodshed was for the better.

"Sir, CAP reports a slip-space emergence 40,000km off the port bow, 25-degrees above the ecliptic." the _Hugh Dowding's_officer of the watch reported as a stream of new data apparel on the main computer display, "IFF reads as the heavy cruiser_ Siege Perilous_. They have challenged, and both pass-word and counter-challenge have been authenticated."

"What the hell is she doing all the way out here?" Commodore Kerensky raised an eyebrow as he looked up from the report he'd been reading, "The _Siege Perilous _is assigned to the Mars Defence Fleet if memory serves."

"Sir, we're picking up a wide-beam transmission. They claim to have Vice-Admiral Wolfe aboard, and that he needs to see Admiral Grant ASAP" the younger officer looked around, a surprised look on her face, "Sir, the orders comes from Fleet-Admiral Chandra himself."

"Admiral Grant's over on the _Pegasus_ for the re-commissioning ceremony." Kerensky put the report down, "Make sure she's informed of our new arrival. Then ask a few indirect questions and see if you can find out why HighCom saw fit to send another Admiral all the way out here on a single heavy cruiser."

* * *

Seventeen jumps in six hours had taken their toll on the crew of the crew of the _Bad Moon Rising_, and the reluctant decision had been made to at least try and get some sleep before continuing. Shaw volunteered to take first watch while the others headed back into the cramped aft cabin. With little to do except keep an eye out for anyone who might stumble upon them in the vast gulf between stars, she went over what little information Dr Halsey had been able to drag out of the Hub's computers. There seemed to be some vague references to a location where the original Cylon's had gone to after signing the armistice, but there were no actual coordinates and the description of the location was somewhat on the vague side.

Shaw was just about to pop the tab one another self-heating cup of coffee when she heard the sound of the hatch being carefully opened and closed, followed by soft footsteps across the deck. Looking around she saw Dr Halsey, her ever-present lab-coat pulled tight around her body. For the first time, the scientist truly looked her age; the stress and strain of the past few days had taken their toll on her, taking away the spark that normally lit up her inquisitive eyes.

"I couldn't sleep." She explained as she set herself down in the co-pilots seat and folded her legs underneath her body, "Too much going on up here." She tapped the side of her head with a faint smile, "Not for the first time either."

"We've all got a lot to think about." Shaw nodded in agreement, offering the coffee to the scientist, "I doubt I'll find it that easy to sleep when it's my turn."

They sat in silence for what felt like an eternity, before Halsey suddenly started to speak again.

"I had a daughter once before; her father was a UNSC officer who'd been my assistant and to a certain extent my babysitter when I first started my work on the SPARTAN-II project." Her voice was barely above a whisper, almost lost against the background noise of the air circulator, "We met up again at a conference a few years later and, well, neither of us expected it to be any more than a way of unwinding and indulging some mutual attraction. But I guess I was a little more absent minded back then, because I'd evidently let my contraceptive implant expire and I ended up with my Miranda."

"Do the others know?" Shaw asked, shocked that the normally composed and secretive scientist had chosen to open up to here in this way, at this time.

"Franklin knows, we were working together back then. I don't know if John or the other Spartans remember me being pregnant, I never brought her into the training area." There was a moment of near perfect silence, as if the entire universe was holding its breath, "As for Cortana? That I can't say; so many of the memories that were passed over to here were jumbled up that it's possible she doesn't know. I had a lot of enemies in ONI back then, so when I sent Miranda to live with her father, she took his name, and I covered her tracks as well as I could so no one could ever try and use her against me. I doubt that even her official file mentions me."

"Did you have much contact with her?"

"Not as much as I would have liked; she was raised wherever Jacob was stationed, and she felt somewhat abandoned by me. I wrote her letters, but most came back unopened." there was another pause, and Halsey's eyes seemed to lose their focus, almost as if she was looking at something in the middle distance, "She looked a lot like Cortana." He eyes closed, and a single tear ran down her cheek, "She was only 27 when she died and I never got a chance to tell her how proud I was of her."

"How do you know that she's..." Shaw was hesitant to ask.

"John and Cortana's after-action reports from The Ark; they included a video taken from the black-box of a _Pelican_ she piloted into battle." Halsey sounded even more distant, as if she was somewhere else, "I... I saw her die, shot in the back by a coward who didn't have the guts to face her."

"Why didn't you mention her before?" Shaw was more than a little lost and rather confused, "You once told me that you'd never had any children."

"Sometimes it's easier to perpetuate the lie then admit the truth." The scientist admitted, "And I guess part of me felt that if I maintained the myth that she wasn't my daughter, then it would mean that I hadn't really lost her, because I'd never had a daughter."

"But if that's true, why are you telling me? And why now?"

"Because we've burned every bridge we've got, and are planning on jumping head first into the abyss. I'm not going to pretend that I believe in some 'higher power'; I was raised to trust in what can be proved through observation and rational thought, but part of me feels that if I'm going to die, then I should do so with a clean conscience." Halsey stood and started to make her way back to the aft cabin, "I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention this conversation to the others."

"What conversation?" Shaw asked, deadpan, "Try and get some sleep, Catherine; we've got a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

* * *

"I should thank you; I've never been one for formal ceremonies." Admiral Grant pulled off her dress uniform jacket and handed it to her chief steward, who vanished though a well hidden door, "Add to that, thing have been rather hectic the last couple of days: first I discover that there's a copy of the Activation Index floating around in the head of a former AI who's been captured by the biggest bunch of religious maniacs this side of the old Covenant. Then while I'm trying to deal with a hostage crisis started by our lost brethren, I face a mutiny led by one of the smartest women who ever lived and a living legend." She held up a hand, a somewhat maniacal grin on her face, "And, just when I thought that my day couldn't get any better, I'm told that one of my staff officers has vanished, along with a short-ranged shuttle." She pulled a business card out of her pocket and tossed it to her gust, "I have my Marines checking her cabin, and all they find is this."

"Captain Antonia Baxter, Office of Naval Intelligence." Vice-Admiral Bradley Wolfe examined the card, "Section Three."

"Exactly. The Office of god-damn Naval Intelligence." Grant muttered a string of oaths under her breath, "The right hand doesn't know the left hand exists, neither knows the right foot exists and all three don't know the left foot exists... which in turn is playing all three of them for fools in some crazy scheme, while not sure if it has five or six toes, let alone what those toes are doing."

"Looks like they must have sent another _Prowler_ along to keep an eye on you." Wolfe suggested, "Not that I'm totally surprised; there's probably one riding shot-gun on my mission."

"Yes, your 'mission'." Grant's eyes narrowed, "Why did HighCom sent you all the way out here? They could only have just gotten our message that we'd made contact with the Colonials. And even then, they would have had to have sent you through the Voi Portal."

"Here." the Vice-Admiral pulled a data-chip from his pocked and plugged it into the terminal built into the conference table that ran the length of the room. There was a momentary pause then the information appeared on the display screen on the bulkhead. "This should just about cover it."

"Mother of god..." Grant looked round from the seemingly endless list of ships, "This has got to be one of the biggest fleets that's been assembled since the end of the last war. Just what is Chandra planning?"

"We're taking the Cyrannus system back from the Cylons and salvaging anything they didn't outright destroy." Wolfe smiled as he took his hat off and tossed it onto the long, polished oak surface of the conference table and watched as it slid along, only stopping when it hit the pitcher of water half way down, "If there are any surviving humans there, we'll do our best to help them."

"But it would take months to get all the way back to Cyrannus, even with the latest generation of slip-space drives." Grant shook her head, "A supply line that long? No, that's no way to fight a war."

"I don't know all the details, but it seems that the Forerunner complex under Voi has started waking up." Wolfe lowered himself into one of the empty seats, "They found another destination it can send ships too. A world you may well have heard of, Kobol."

* * *

Cortana winced in pain as an Eight pulled the straps holding her in place as tight as it would go. A lever was pulled, and the contraption she was tied to rotated vertically.

"You know, strung up like this," She nodded her head to indicate the way her arms were held out perpendicular to her body, "a girl could be forgiven for having delusions of grandeur."

"Delusions maybe, but I doubt they'll be very grand." Caprica had changed into a rather scarlet dress that did it's best to hide her curves, with black pipping and belt, "I've been told that this device is excruciatingly painful, but as you insist on doing this the hard way, I see no reason to go easy on you."

"Compared to your monologues, I'm sure it's a walk in the park." Cortana did her best to sound confident, "I've been tortured and interrogated by things bigger and nastier than you; you're not even a blip on my DRADIS screen."

"That's right, be brave." Caprica stepped closer until they were almost touching and ran a gentle hand down the side of her prisoner's face, "Because back then you were nothing more than a mind, without form. But now you are oh so much more."

Alternating waves of pleasure and pain shot through Cortana's body, making her thrush about against her restraints as every nerve ending in her body felt like it was being hyper-stimulated at once. The sensation reached the point where she should have blacked out, but the sweet releases of unconsciousness was denied her as her eyes rolled back in her head and she lost all control over her limbs. It continued for what felt like an eternity then stopped just as abruptly as it had started.

"Much like that of a human, your body is little more than a highly complex biological machine." Caprica explained, an amused smile on her face as she wiped away the sweat from the other woman's forehead, "But unlike theirs, yours can be controlled and manipulated by those who know how. I can control everything you see, hear and feel; from your point of view, reality is clay in my hands, do be moulded as I see fit. You were smart enough to put in blocks so I can't try and force the Activation Index out of you without risking it being lost altogether. But trust me; when I'm through with you, you'll be begging to give it to me. And believe me, I _will_ make you beg before we're through."

**To Be Continued...**


	52. Countdown To Armageddon

_Ongoing thanks to Zimu Yang for beta-reading_

**Red In Tooth And Claw  
****Chapter 52: Countdown To Armageddon**

"It's an elegant, if somewhat simple design." Commander de Carabas expertly looked over the plans for the multi-warhead missile, "I can see at least a dozen places where they could improve upon it."

"Improve how?" Ship-Master 'Baranos asked.

"Well, if we were to strip out say a third of the warheads each missile carried, we could add some penetration aids to help against active point-defences." The engineer contemplated the idea, "Dazzlers, strobes, jammers, maybe some plasma-grenades to act as mini _Whiz-Bangs_, and a Dragons Tooth or two."

"Excuse me?" Apollo raised an eyebrow, "Even with your accent toned down, I hardly understood a word of that."

"Dazzlers, strobes and jammers are designed to mess with the electronic and visual sensors, filling them with static. _Whiz-Bangs_ are, as you know, EMP weapons to disable any delicate electronics within a given radius." de Carabas smiled, "Good for taking out counter-missiles. Dragons Teeth create false returns on any known sensor system, confusing them so they have to shoot at targets that aren't there."

"How soon do you think you can start building new ones?" The Colonial asked.

"Well, the _Argo_ has a couple of large machine-shops we could re-task to fabricate the outer shells, and the _Turing_ can produce the guidance chips in large numbers." The yard-dog rubbed his chin, his fingers rasping against two days worth of stubble, "The Cylons can produce as many of the smaller missiles as we need. So, taking into account time needed for the basic set up and getting the needed parts together, and I think we might have a couple of test models ready in two, maybe three days. I'm not promising they'll be perfect, but it'll be something we can take to the Admirals; they'll have to sign off on full scale production."

"Begin your preparations." 'Baranos nodded his head, "I will talk to Admiral Grant."

* * *

"Our little friend should have the portal open soon." Admiral Grant sat in her command chair, looking at the screen that folded out from the arm, "I'll send the _Shadow Of The Night_ through first to make sure we have a secure connection to Kobol; we're dealing with a transit node, not a full portal like Earth or Kobol. But if everything goes according to plan, and God knows we're due a break any time now, it'll be just a short hop to where Admiral Chandra is waiting with his Task Force and enough supplies to fight a small interstellar war."

"And then?" Adama asked a little gruffly.

"That's up to you, but based on the information Admiral Wolfe brought with him, it sounds like the Alliance will be setting up a permanent Fleet Station there." Grant shrugged, "You could settle there if that's what you want; it is your ancestral home, after all."

"That's something the Quorum would have to vote on." Adama shook her head, "But, at least it'll give us a chance to land somewhere relatively safe."

"All I know is that Admiral Chandra, the UNSC's highest decorated fleet commander, is going to lead a fleet to the Cyrannus system and take down any Cylons still there..." Grant shrugged, "Feel free to send a ship along to pick up anything you left behind, but we'll not be staying; if your reports are correct, then the radiation's too high for long-term exposure, even with our medical knowledge."

"_We can send the _Pegesus_: if the upgrades live up to their promises, then she should have a few new surprises in store for the Cylon's._" Adama nodded in agreement, "_The _Galactica _still needs a major refit before she's ready to see combat again..._"

"_I'm sorry to interrupt you, Admirals._" Silent Contemplation cut in over the link, "_But I believe that we are ready._"

* * *

"I think I've got it." Shaw turned her seat around, "I've gone over all the information we have about where we think they're holding Cortana." She typed a quick command into the navigational computer, and a set of coordinates came up on the main screen, "It's little more than an informed guess, but I think that this is where we need to go."

"Well, it's better than what I've got." Mendez shrugged philosophically, "I say we go for it."

"I agree." The Master Chief nodded.

"Okay." Halsey sat down in the pilot's seat, "We'll jump in a little further out, and work our way in under maximum stealth; hopefully they won't spot us."

"Well, it's free jumps until we get there." Shaw transferred the jump sequence to the helm, "No time like the present."

* * *

"Frak me, that's a lotta ships." Tigh looked out of the observation bay window, jaw gaping.

The planet Kobol hung in the sky, orbited by a staggering one hundred warships and thirty-five support ships, including the imposing bulk of the mobile battle-station _Unending Vigilance_. Countless fighters, drop-ships and shuttles darted between their larger brethren, while on the dark side of the planet, artificial lights blazed for the first time in tens of thousands of years. Despite this, most eyes were fixed on the fleet of warships in high orbit, especially the six massive _T_**_hermopylae_** class Battleships that dwarfed even the Assault-Carriers.

"That's the flag-ship." One of the UNSC officers pointed at the ship in the middle of the formation, "That's the UNSC _Preston J. Cole_ herself; pride of the fleet."

"And she's not alone: the _Thunder Child_, the _Lord Terrance Hood_," Someone else nodded, "the _Remember The Alamo_, the _Ramilies_ and the _Philip Of Macedonia_."

"I served on the _Viper_, my first year out of the academy." A third voice added, pointing at one of the numerous frigates, then towards one of the sleek Battlecruisers, "And I think my brother's still on the _Concordia_."

"HighCom must be serious about setting up a base here if they've diverted all these ships and materials." Commander McGregor stood leaning against the bulkhead, "I've seen some big ops; I was flying off the _Yorktown_ when we kicked the Kig-yar out of 23 Librae, but I've never seen a fleet that big outside of a major system."

"It's really that big?" Tigh asked.

"Put it this way; Tyne, our biggest ship-building centre, has three battle squadrons in its defence fleet. Home Fleet, covering Earth, Mars, Titan and the rest of the Sol system, has six battle squadrons." McGregor nodded towards the ships outside window, "They've got two full Battle Squadrons out there, and the biggest military expedition I've ever hear of had only one."

* * *

"You know, I think I preferred it when you were a little more talkative." Caprica closed her eyes and stretched out, a serene smile on her face, "Even when you were cursing me with your every breath, at least I knew you cared." Rolling over onto her side, she threw an arm and a leg over the comatose body that lay next to her on the hard metal examination table, held in place by thick metal reinforced straps, "I don't enjoy hurting you, taking your mind apart piece by piece like this, but you insist on defying me." She reached up and brushed a few stray hairs away from the pale, drawn face next to her own, "And the last thing I want to do is hurt you." She ran her hand down the side of the face, "This goes beyond the Activation Index; you are the centre of the wheel, the point at which all possibilities intersect. You represent a true amalgamation of humanity and Cylon, flesh and metal. But you have to decide where your true loyalties lie." She pulled herself closer to the other woman, feeling the warmth of their bodies becoming one, "Chose soon, because I can't wait forever."

* * *

Neither Adama nor Roslin could believe the sheer size and scale of the UNSC _Preston J. Cole_: it was bigger than any ship they'd ever seen up close, save the Resurrection Hub. The ship's main-gun was a spinally mounted Mark-V 'Super' magnetic accelerator cannon capable of propelling a 3,000-ton projectile to 0.4c, delivering enough kinetic force to vaporise most star-ships with a single shot. Adama felt a strange mix of awe and fear, the mental image of what just one of the weapons could do if turned on an inhabited planet. He'd never even conceived of a weapon with such destructive capacity, and yet here he was looking at one. The gaping maw of the MAC looked big enough to swallow a small ship, and in many ways it was.

"Yeah, they're big buggers all right." Admiral Wolfe smiled, realising just what was on the other man's mind, "Not that they let us play with them too often plus each round cost more than I make in a year, if you don't hit your intended target, they keep going until they do hit something, somewhere down the line. And when you're talking about something that hits with the force of a 50-gigaton nuke... well, let's just say that you'd better be sure of just what you're aiming at, and what's behind it when you press that big red button."

"You'll have to forgive Bradley; like most men he has an affinity for really big guns." Admiral Grant chuckled, "But he's not joking; I've been in uniform over forty years, and I've only ever seen a Mark V fired twice, and both of them were on orbital stations defending a planet from an attack by the Jiralhanae. I saw an Assault Carrier, identical to the _Renewed Purpose_, cored stem-to-stern by a single shot, clean through her shields like they weren't even there."

There was a dull thud as the shuttle docked with the battleship, then a hiss as the pressure equalised. Grant slipped her cap onto her head, as Wolfe likewise made sure his dress uniform was immaculate. Adama took a moment to compare their uniforms; Wolfe's had the three stars that he had be told denoted a Vice-Admiral, while Grant's had the four stars of a full Admiral. His own uniform only had a single star, but given the different rank structure, he was approximately the same rank as Wolfe.

"Tradition dictates that we go through in reverse order of rank." Grant advised as the airlock hissed open, and a crewman with a boatswain's pipe blew a short burst.

"_Commander, First Cruiser Squadron, Arriving!_" A voice called as Wolfe ducked down and stepped through the hatch, saluting the shore party.

Adama went to go next, but Grant stopped him with a cheerful smile on her face as a slightly longer tune was played.

"_Commander, 4__th__ Fleet, Arriving!_" The voice announced, and Grant stepped through.

"_Admiral of The Fleet, Twelve Colonies of Kobol, Arriving!_" The voice called out even louder as even more complicated tune was played, "_All hands, **ATTENTION ON DECK!**_"

There was a loud stamping sound, accompanied by the unmistakable click of weapons being drought from rest to full parade attention as the Colonial Anthem was played over the ships PA system. More shocked than anything, Adama managed to step through the hatch without tripping over his own feet, and stood next to Grant and Wolfe before a full Marine honour guard and a double line of uniformed officers and crew.

"It was Admiral Chandra's idea: he wanted to make it clear that, as far as he's concerned, the two of you have the same rank." Grant explained with an impish grin that looked entirely out of place in such austere surrounding, "The orders he sent included a request to forward any information that might help, so I had burst transmitted a few files the moment we arrived."

A tall man with five stars on his collar stepped forward.

"Admiral Adama, I'd like to introduce Fleet Admiral Jay Chandra, senior flag-officer of Task Force H." Grant saluted her superior, "Admiral, it is my honour and duty to introduce Admiral William Adama, commanding officer of the Battlestar Galactica, and senior officer, Navy of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol."

"Admiral Adama, welcome aboard the _Preston J. Cole_." Chandra offered his hand, "It is not often that we are privileged to play host to someone of you rank and standing."

"The honour is mine, sir." Adama took the offered hand and shook it, "I can't thank you enough for what you've already done for my people already."

"To quote one of my world]s most famous politicians, this is nearly the end of the beginning." Chandra gestured towards a nearby hatch, "Please, follow me to the briefing room, and I'll fill you in on just what we have planned."

* * *

The _Bad Moon Rising_ slipped through space, little more than a faint shadow over the star-scape. But even so far out, they were able to pick up the amassed Cylon fleet on their powerful passive sensors due to its sheer size and the amount of electromagnetic energy it was putting out. Yet despite this, the stealth ship was able to sneak past their outer defences without leaving the slightest hint that it had even been there, its repaired systems making it about as visible as a pane of glass.

"There's another contact, half-hidden behind the Cylon fleet." Shaw looked at her screen and her eyes went wide, "Oh frak me, that's a big son of a bitch!"

"How big?" The Master Chief asked without looking round.

"Remember those images you showed me of _High Charity_?" Shaw's face was ashen, "Bigger."

"Please tell me I'm wrong," Halsey pointed out the view-port, "but isn't that a _Halo_?"

**To Be Continued...**


	53. Charging The Very Walls Of Hell

_Ongoing thanks to Zimu Yang for beta-reading_

**Red In Tooth And Claw  
****Chapter 53: Charging The Very Walls Of Hell **

The _Queen Anne's Revenge_ dropped out of slipstream five light-minutes from the coordinates Moriarty had given Baxter and immediately raised its optical cloak and cut all outgoing emissions. Although the ship was the size and mass of a cruiser, her armament was more on-par with a Corvette, consisting of a single plasma projector in the bow and a half-dozen pulse-lasers in the flanks and massed point-defense batteries. But this was considered more than sufficient for a ship that was never intended to see combat, and she was more than capable of out-gunning the few ships she couldn't out-run. Built to remain hidden and report back, the _Machiavelli _class had the most sophisticated sensor and communications array ever put into a ship. Even relying on just her passive scanners, she was able to map the Cylon fleet, eavesdrop on their communications and even identify specific ships based on minor deviations in their hull plating and energy signature.

Less than fifteen minutes after arriving, she skulked back into slipstream.

"Power up the communications array once we're far enough away." Baxter ordered, her face ashen, "We've got to report this."

* * *

Fred sat ramrod straight, eyes fixed dead ahead yet not really looking at anything in particular, as the hatch opened and a woman dressed in a dark blue military uniform stepped through. Her rank insignia was that off a full-Colonel, but he could see the unmistakable insignia of the Spartan Corps. on her upper arms, just below her broad shoulders. She sat across from him, placing several hard-copy files on the small table that was the room's only other furniture.

"Well now, this is interesting." She spoke with a slight Slavic accent, "I am Colonel Gloria-B076, commanding officer of 2nd Battalion, 1st Spartan Corps., and I was sent by HighCom to help you and the others decide what you wanted to do with the rest of your lives." She cocked her head to the side, "But you decided that for yourselves when you disobeyed a direct order from your lawful superior, misappropriated UNCS equipment and took up arms against fellow UNCS soldiers." She looked up, "Did I miss anything out?"

Fred remained perfectly silent.

"Just between the two of us, I understand why you did what you did." Gloria continued, placing her hands palms down on the table, "He's your friend and, well, he's John-117; the Master Chief. I'd probably follow the man into hell myself if he asked. But I would never go as far as you did, not for something personal." She paused, trying to read any hint of emotion on her fellow Spartan's face, "What you did may, to an extent, have been morally right, at least for you and you team. But it was also highly illegal, and for that there will have to be at least some repercussions." She pulled a piece of paper out of one of the files on the desk, "I want you to read this then sign it. It's a statement saying that, after much consideration, you have decided to retire from active duty with the United Nations Space Command Defense Force, and asked to be allowed to enjoy your retirement in peace. You will never disclose the truth about what happened aboard the _Galactica_, and in exchange you will be allowed to retire with your full pension and benefits intact. If you or any other members of your team refuse, you will all be sent to the maximum security stockade on the planetoid Hades. There you will be detained for the remainder of your natural life."

* * *

"Hang on, I just want to get this straight in my head." Shaw stood with her hands on her hips in the hatch leading from the living quarters to the equally cramped cargo bay, "Your plan is to basically storm the enemy stronghold which also happens to be an actual doomsday weapon, defeat the evil warlord and her entire army, rescue the damsel in distress and save all life in the galaxy from annihilation?"

"A little simplistic," The Master Chief nodded as he continued to prepare his equipment, "but I think that just about covers everything."

"Oh, that's good then." Shaw shook her head and laughed, "For a moment there I thought this was going to be difficult."

"I fear that '_difficult_' doesn't even come close to it." Halsey held out a data chip almost identical to the one that had once housed Cortana, except that there was only a pea-sized point of light in the very middle, "A little pet-project of mine; his name's Jerrod, and I thought it was best to keep him hidden, just in case." Standing on tip-toes, she was able to reach around and insert the chip into the slot on the back of the Master Chief's neck, "He's nowhere near as smart as Cortana was, and there were limits to how much extra programming I could give him, but he may come in handy."

"_Good morning, sir._" A rather calm, formal sounding voice came over the suits speakers, "_I do hope that I am able to be of some small service today._"

"And you were going to tell us about him when?" Shaw asked.

"Given how you reacted to Cortana before you got to know her, never." Halsey replied with more than a hint of sarcasm, "I've always felt it best to have an ace or two up your sleeve, just in case things don't go as expected."

"How many more you got?" There was an unmistakable edge to Shaw's voice; she couldn't help but feel a little betrayed, given how the doctor had opened up to her two nights before.

"Jerrod is my last roll of the dice." Halsey shook her head, "I have nothing else to give."

"Still, it's crazy to go down there alone." Shaw cocked a thumb towards the Spartan behind her, "That place has got to be swarming with Cylons and the gods know only what kind of automated defenses."

"Sentinels and Enforcers most likely." The Master Chief spoke without looking round as he loaded shotgun rounds into a bandoleer and dropped it into the large bag at his feet, "But it doesn't look like they've been able to repair many of the systems, so it's safe to assume that Guilt Spark had them concentrate on the main weapon and the subspace link to the other rings."

"That makes sense." Halsey nodded in agreement, "All the rings are connected; activate one and they all fire. One of the Forerunner's more annoying fail-safes."

"I don't understand where this thing came from." Shaw lent back against the bulkhead, "You said that we were nowhere near any of the rings. Was that a lie too?"

"No, it wasn't a lie." The Spartan paused and slowly turned round, "I cannot be sure, but I would surmise that the ring out there is the replacement for the one I destroyed by detonating the Pillar Of Autumn's reactor. I had assumed that it was destroyed along with the Ark when I fired it to take out the Flood, but apparently I was mistaken. It must have fallen though the same portal as the Forward Unto Dawn but dropped out here. Guilty Spark was connected to the ring's main systems, so when the first Cylon War ended he must have brought them here to start rebuilding it. The biological Cylons were probably his attempt to bypass the genetic lockout that stops non-humans from activating certain advanced Forerunner artifacts."

"But he'd still need the Activation Index coded to this particular ring, and that's where Cortana comes in." Shaw nodded, finally catching up, "And if that bitch Caprica can get the Index, it's bye-bye us."

"Then the Centurions rebuild their biological counterparts, and they're free to pick over what the rest of us leave behind." Halsey frowned, "You have to admit, there is a certain twisted elegance to the plan."

"I'm not going to let that happen." The Master Chief stated resolutely, "The Cylons are right about one thing; all this has happened before, and it's going to happen again." He lifted the bag and flung it over his should and headed towards the cargo hold, "Time to end this."

"Still, you're going down there alone." Shaw pointed out, "I still think one of us should go with you."

"Who?" The Spartan asked, "There are four of us: you're needed to pilot the ship, Dr. Halsey may have been in combat situations in the past, but she's still a scientist, and with all due respect for Chief Mendez, he's pushing ninety. There are limits, even for a SPARTAN-I." He shook his head, "No, I do this alone."

* * *

Adama was beginning to suspect that President Roslin had the right idea when she remained on the shuttle and went down to meet with the members of the diplomatic corps at the still-under-construction Alliance Fleet Base Kobol. The fact that Cavil had also gone down to negotiate was a little worrying, but there was no way the Cylons would risk a fight with so many ship keeping an eye on his own somewhat beleaguered fleet, and with UNCS officers and crew manning the all-important Resurrection Hub.

Even so, Adama had never liked staff meetings, and even with Chandra riding roughshod over the others there was still a lot to discuss before they could start assembling the ships needed to retake the Twelve Colonies. Their trip from the landing bay to the conference room had been somewhat meandering, with Chandra taking the opportunity to show off his flagship to his fellow admiral. Adama had been surprised at just how cramped the ship was; he hadn't realized just how much of the ships volume was taken up by its massive main gun and the associated systems, let alone the oversized engines needed to maneuver the ship at sub-light speed. In many respects, the crew areas and secondary armaments had been put wherever there was space, then sealed in beneath a layer of armor that weighed as much as a heavy cruiser. Adama felt sure that, if it came to a fight between the _Cole_ and the two Battlestar's under his command, all the earth-ship would have to do would be to wait for the _Galactica_ and _Pegesus_ to expend their ammunition supplies before ramming them into oblivion. Even the massive Cylon Dreadnoughts like the _Invincible_ he had fought over New Caprica wouldn't have a chance against a well crewed _Thermopylae_ class Battleships.

The arrival of an immaculately dressed Lieutenant at Chandra's shoulder brought him back to reality, and he watched intently as the young officer whispered in his Admiral's ear for some time.

Chandra looked somewhat taken aback by what he was told, but he dismissed the messenger then rose from his seat to address the still debating assembly of officers.

"I'm sorry to have to interrupt you, but I have just been informed that we are receiving a transmission from an ONI ship operating nearby." His voice was level, but there was an unmistakable edge underscoring just how unusual this was, "Given how rarely ONI sees fit to contact mere mortals like us, let alone in such a manner, I feel we should see what they have to say."

He nodded towards a yeoman standing near the bulkhead, and the lights dimmed slightly as a hologram shimmered into life. For a moment, Adama was reminded of the first time he had met Cortana, and he realized that while the Cole no doubt had its own A.I., they had kept quiet so far. No doubt to make him feel more comfortable.

"Captain Baxter, I presume?" Chandra leaned back in his chair as the static cleared and the other officer's face became clear, "To what do we owe this unusual pleasure? The number of ships smaller than a battle-cruiser capable of carrying an FTL com-system is somewhat small, to say the least, but I would be lying if I said I believed that ONI was telling the truth about just how many they had."

"_I'm sorry but I can tell you neither the call-sign nor classification of the ship I'm on, Admiral._" Baxter responded perfectly deadpan, "_Operational security requires that we proceed on a purely need-to-know basis, and that's not something you need to know._"

"Then can I take it that there is something I need to know?"

"_They say a picture is worth a thousand words, sir._" Baxter signaled to someone behind her who wasn't within range of the holo-scanner's pick-up, "_So maybe I should just show you._"

There was a moment of static then the room fell so quiet that Adama could actually here the low hum of the ventilation system. He'd seen an image like the one that hung in the air once before, when he's asked the Master Chief about the Halo's. But where that one had been a perfect circle, this one was fragmented, held together by a few loose strands. Many sections seemed to be devoid of atmosphere, but one large area at the bottom was still the blue-green of a habitable biosphere. The image zoomed out to show a vast fleet of Cylon ships in attendance, watching over the mega-structure that dwarfed them.

"_We picked up active power signatures from on the surface and from within the structure itself._" Baxter broke the silence, "_We have no idea how it got here, but all evidence points to it being genuine and not some elaborate hoax or replica. As such we have no option but to enact the full extent of the Hood Protocol._"

"I understand." Chandra nodded, "Commodore Hartmann, pass the word to the other ships; we sail as soon as possible. Admiral Grant, I'm detaching your fleet to guard the ship we're leaving behind. If you don't hear from us within 48-hours, report back to HIGHCOM and have them send Home Fleet through." He stood, "Looks like we have some unfinished business to take care of."

**To Be Continued...**


	54. Of Gods & Demons

_I needed to take a time-out from writing,  
__so the delay between the last chapter and this one was a little longer than planned  
__Ongoing thanks to Zimu Yang for beta-reading_

**Red In Tooth And Claw  
Chapter 54: Of ****Gods & Demons**

The _Bad Moon Rising_ came in low and fast over the shattered landscape, skimming over what had once been emerald green hills and azure lakes, but were now little more than blackened and broken contours on an airless landscape that looked like it had been taken directly from Dante's _Inferno_. With a miniature spy-satellite they had dropped in orbit feeding real-time updates on Cylon movements, it was relatively easy to avoid being seen.

"I can get us to within twenty clicks of the target, but after that their surveillance and air-defence nets become a hell of a lot tighter." Shaw warned as she dropped down into a valley and skilfully brought the Prowler into a gap beneath an overhang and dropped down through a gap in the surface into one of the many cavernous access ways that riddled the structure, "We can get a little closer this way if the schematics you gave me hold true."

"_They will._" The Master Chief reported over the intercom from the cargo-bay, "_This array is an exact copy of the first one we encountered_."

"Assuming it is an exact copy, and the Cylons haven't made any alterations." Shaw pointed out as she moved the ship through the labyrinth as fast as she dared.

"You're a cynic." Halsey pointed out with a smile, "I've always liked that about you."

"Right now, I wish I was an optimist." Shaw sighed as she killed the last of their forward momentum and landed the Prowler just inside its side tunnel, where the deep shadows helped hide it from anyone passing by in the main passageway, "This is as far as I can take it; he's on foot from here out."

"_I'd hardly call it 'on foot'._" The Master Chief pointed out as he opened the outer hatch and moved the appropriated _Decimator_ armour suit out into the tunnel, "_Time to see just how good this thing is._"

"Let's." Shaw switched the main view screen to the feed from the aft camera.

It was obvious that the assault suit shared the same lineage as the MJOLNIR armour, only on a vastly different scale. At a little over eight meters, it was four times the height and carried an array of in-built offensive and defensive systems. The directed-energy cannon attacked to the right forearm and the gauss-cannon sticking vertically up over the left shoulder were the most obvious of these, while the active and passive sensors stuck up over its 'head' like a pair of overly long ears.

"That's one mean looking mike-foxtrot" Mendez nodded approvingly from behind Shaw and Halsey, "Could have used those back in the day."

"_All systems are green._" Jerrod announced, "_I've marked a series of nav-points that should get us to the Control Room easily enough._"

"_Sounds like a plan to me._" The Master Chief rumbled as he lifted a hastily converted drop-pod full of weapons and other equipment and slung it over the _Decimaror's_ right shoulder, "_Let's get this show on the road._"

* * *

"The _Tierra Del Fuego _has already started putting together a ground-side base for our operations, but I've ordered the _Northwest Passage,__Oregon Trail_ and _Cape Of Good Hope_ to switch over to building civilian shelters and infrastructure." Jacob Knight, the Alliance's senior diplomat assigned to Kobol looked like someone's kindly old grandfather, with short grey hair and a friendly, if weathered face, "You just need to pick a location."

Laura Roslin looked him in the eye; she wasn't for a moment taken in by the idea that the Thirteenth Tribe or their allies were helping them out of the goodness of their heart. No, they wanted access to the advanced technology hidden under Kobol, a cornucopia of knowledge that was her people's birth-right. The one chance they had at rebuilding their society lay in staking their claim to a fair share of that treasure-trove before their distant relatives cut them out.

"I think here, near the old City of the Gods." She pointed to an area on the topographic map spread out across the table between them and smiled, "Just over the river from your own base."

"A sound plan." Knight nodded, and gestured to one of his aids, "Tell Commander Fusili to start landing procedures as soon as possible. He can liaise with the President's office as to the lay out of the city, but I want basic infrastructure in place by the end of the week: water, power, sanitation and the such."

"I'd also like to request something else." Roslin sounded somewhat reluctant, "We could use some extra troops, human troops, to help with planet-side security. While we were on ships, it was relatively easy to keep order, but one of the things New Caprica thaught us was that there are still some unfortunate prejudices between the various factions that make up our society. Taurons still hate Virgons and Leonins, Aerilon's are still considered backwards, Gemenese are a bunch of religious fanatics to many and Capricans are still seen as somewhat stuck-up." She paused to catch her breath, "But, as of yet, the vast majority of our people see the Thirteenth Tribe as our saviours who no one in their right mind would take objection to. You are, for want of a better term, neutral, and I need that image if I'm going to maintain peace once we start landing."

"I see, and I think I understand." Knight rubbed his chin then looked at a younger, blond haired man seated to his right who had remained almost silent throughout the entire meeting, "General?"

"You are right, of cause." Major-General Juan Perreira, the highly-decorated commander of the 11th Marine Expansionary Force nodded his head, "Most of the troops we have with us are Helljumpers; shock troops ill equipped or trained for that kind of operation. But, if we draw together marines from the various ships, we would have a large detachment of military police we could deploy until we can have specialist units sent through from Earth."

"I can live with that." Roslin nodded, then turned back to Knight, "This 'Portal' I have been hearing so much about; none of our surviving texts from before the Fall of Kobol mention anything like it, and I would very much like to see it for myself."

"That shouldn't be a problem." the Ambassador agreed, "We still have a lot of ships due through over the next couple of days, and it can be a little hazardous to navigate around when active, but we should be able to schedule a fly-by."

* * *

"We have a potential security breach in section seventeen: our passive sensors are picking up movement on sub-level nine, heading towards us." A Two announced from his station in the main control room, "Unfortunately we don't have any working visual scanners in that area."

"It's him." Caprica turned her throne-like chair around and smiled, "I was hoping he'd get here sooner, but as the saying goes, all good things come to those who wait." She turned to one of the Eights, "Is it ready?"

"We have finished the conversion, but we haven't had time to run any tests." The military advisor sounded defensive, "We can't guarantee that it'll stand up to extended combat."

"I have faith." Caprica stood and headed towards the door, "Send in the Centurions; I want to know just what he brought with him."

"By your command." The Two nodded.

* * *

"All ships report ready for Slipstream." Chandra's Flag-Lieutenant reported, "Projected travel time is twenty eight hours."

"Like hell it is!" The Admiral snorted, "Contact whoever is in charge down at the Portal and tell them I want it powered up, co-ordinates set for the Halo."

"Sir?" The younger officer looked more than a little concerned, "I thought you needed a receiving station?"

"According to Silent Contemplation, that's only if you want a two-way link." Chandra shook his head, "Munroe?"

"Aye, sir!" The holographic avatar of the ship's A.I. sprung to life above the main consul. It took the form of a man dressed in an early 18th century naval uniform, complete with cocked hat and gold brain, "We have all the information we need to calculate the portal. Of cause, we'll have to take the long way back..."

"I don't mind being late getting back, just so long as we're not late getting there." The Admiral replied deadpan, "And Fitzwallace?"

"Ready willing and able, sir!" A second hologram, this time depicting a man dressed in the uniform of a Highland soldier with a massive broadsword and a flintlock rifle, appeared next to Munroe, "We'll teach these _Sassenach_ bastards not to mess wi the Alliance, don't yee ne never mind!"

"Indeed." Munroe rolled his eyes, "I have never understood this bloodthirsty attitude Combat A.I.'s have."

"Just because yee fleet-types canna be trusted to fly a ship while fighting off an attack by hostile computers is na reason ta get all defensive." Fitzwallace slapped his companion on the back with a huge grin on his face, "Ahm sure there'll any amoont yee can dee te help oot."

Chandra couldn't help but smile; the fragmenting of the UNSC after the Covenant War meant that many of the now independent colonies had the ability to produce military grade A.I.'s and the will to use them against worlds still under the control of Earth. Thus the specialist 'combat A.I.' had been created by Project: ENCOM specificity to tackle hostile programs. Without the need for the complicated programs and algorithms needed to operate a starship or some other highly demanding job, it was possibly to equip them with the very best in counter-incursion and antiviral programs. Thus armed, they would actively seek out and attack any unauthorised incursion into the system they were guarding.

Just how effective they would prove to be against the Cylons was yet to be seen.

"Save it for the enemy." The Admiral recommended, "It's not like they're going to be in short supply."

* * *

The rattle of machine-gun fire, the loud _whump_ of a gauss-cannon and the high pitched hiss of a directed energy cannon echoed through the underground cavern, inter-spaced with the crackle of ammo cooking off inside the multiple Centurions that lay in the Master Chief's wake like so many spent shell-casings. One of the much older Model-005 Centurions attempted to make a suicide run, only to be crushed under foot by the towering _Decimator_ battle armour. A trio of its more modern counterparts tried to drop down from an overhead walk way, only to be swatted out of the air, effortlessly cut in two by the suits integrated plasma bayonet.

Despite the _Decimator's_ size and bulk, it moved with the fluid grace of a dancer. Not a single move was wasted or without cause, and when its weapon's spoke, their targets died. The fight was more a work of art than a battle, the result of years of training under brutal conditions. It wasn't vengeance. It was retribution; cold as ice, swift as lightning and terrible as a demon's worst nightmare. There was no fear, guilt or hesitation in the Spartans actions; every fibre of his being was dedicated to the goal of getting through to his target. Some of the Centurions has managed to get hold of heavier weapons and a pair of RPG's arched across the cavern towards the Spartan, but impacted harmlessly against the battle armours defensive screen, making it flare brightly. A solitary missile backtracked their flight path, destroying the last vestiges of resistance.

"_Well, that was exhilarating._" Jerrod mused somewhat dryly, "_Is combat normally like this?_"

"Sometimes." The Master Chief double checked the suites systems, and was concerned that he'd already used half the gauss-cannons ammunition, "How much further until we reach the control room?"

"_Not far now._" Jerrod pulled up a map onto the HUD, "_Once we're across the next valley, there should be a short passage way before the canyon with the control room._"

The door before them opened as they approached, and the bulky _Decimator_ was only just able to squeeze through. The hatch slammed shut behind them and locked with a loud, audible click. Looking ahead, they could see that they were standing on a ledge overlooking what should have been an open valley, but was in fact a gaping abyss that led down into the inner workings of the array, many kilometres below.

"_I don't think we have the power left to jump that far._" Jerrod warned as the main readout switched to show just how depleted the power-cells were, "_We may have to find another way._"

"There may be a way across." The Chief shook his head, "Scan for anything that could be a control interface; anything that could be used to activate a holo-bridge."

"_Scanning._" There was a pause, "_Sir, I am detecting a single life-form, dead ahead._"

The Spartan moved ahead, weapons at the ready. A low wall before the parapet stretched from one side of the ledge to the other. An all too familiar blond-hair woman stood there, smiling up at them.

"You!" The Master Chief hissed, his voice as cold as liquid hydrogen, "Where is Cortana?"

"You know, I've spent some time studying your people; our God retained the knowledge he took from the ship that crashed on his Sacred Ring." Caprica stepped back into an alcove in the parapet and part of the wall closed around her, protecting her like armour, "I have to say that I found it very interesting: an entire culture, unlike my own or those of the Twelve Colonies. And yet, somehow still alike, no doubt the result of genetic manipulation by those whom you know as the Forerunners." There was a series of loud clicks and hisses then a large segment of the wall opened up to reveal something more menacing behind. "I paid special attention to Earth's religious teachings, and was absolutely fascinated by the similarities between your Greco-Roman Parthenon and the false-gods the Colonials continue to worship." the device behind the wall shifted, and a massive suite of battle armour that towered over even the _Decimator_ stepped forward, the insane Cylon high up on its chest, controlling its every action, "But it there's a line in your so-called 'Bible' that I think best fits what we face here today, Luke chapter ten, verse eighteen, to be exact." She flexed the suits arms, and massive talons appeared from its hands, "_I beheld Satan, as lightning fall from heaven!_"

"_Sir, if I may suggest..._" Jerrod sounded somewhat worried.

"I know! I know!" The Master Chief was already leaping for the nearest cover, "Evasive manoeuvres!"

"_Actually, sir, I was going to recommend 'running like hell'_." The A.I. was back to its more normal aloof self, "_But one supposes one must make allowances in these circumstances..._"

**To Be Continued...**

_I used the AV-98 "_Ingram_" from_ Patlabor _as the visual inspiration for the _Decimator_ suite_


	55. Armageddon

_Ongoing thanks to Zimu Yang for beta-reading  
__(and he had a lot of work to do this time)_

**Red In Tooth And Claw  
Chapter 55: ****Armageddon**

The Portal armature flashed into existence and almost immediately started to spew forth warships. The Cylons moved their own forces to intercept; dozens of Baseship's launching hundreds of fighters. The Alliance ships responded in kind, and space was soon filled with flaming death as the two forces met head on. An iris opened on the Halo, and an ominous green glow heralded a beam of raw destructive power that sliced clean through the battle-cruiser _Flames Of War_ and carried on to take out the destroyer _Nebuchadnezzar _and the frigate _Vixen_. The fleet hadn't had time to respond before a second beam of light shot out and claimed the battle-cruisers _Killing Blow_ and _Konstantin Romanov_, a piece of flaming debris from the latter flying into the heavy cruiser _Oath Of Allegiance_.

Seizing the initiative, the Cylons unleashed a massive folly of nuclear tipped missiles, even as the Alliance ships manoeuvred to get out of the Halo's field of fire. Several ships were hit by kamikaze runs by _Raiders_, their shields weakening enough to allow damage to seep through. Their formation broken, they were unable to offer mutual support, and the Cylons superior numbers started to come into their own.

"Sir, the crew of the _Warspite_ are abandoning ship. The _Taranto_ is burning stem to stern, same with the _Eye Of Ra_." The staff tactical officer on the _Cole_ reported, "The _Ajax_ is not responding and the _Blood Oath_ is spinning out of control." She paused, "The...sir, the _Philip Of Macedonia_ just exploded! She's gone! Just, gone..."

"Admiral, we've lost a dozen ships already." One of the more junior officers screamed, "We have to break off contact or we'll lose the rest of them!"

"Then we lose them!" Chandra snapped back angrily, "It may have escaped your notice, but that is a damn _HALO_ out there! If they manage to fire it, it will set the others off in a chain reaction that will wipe out all life in this galaxy! The only chance we have is to destroy that thing before it's fully armed. And if that means that we all die, then I say l_ay on, a_nd damn'd be him that first cries '_Hold, enough!_'" He turned back to the tactical officer, "Pull the carriers and the lighter units back. Then have the rest form up on us and concentrate their fire on this area." he indicated a section of the Halo's main superstructure near the energy weapon, "We hit it with everything we've got and pray we outlast them."

* * *

Caprica Six came at the Master Chief with an unbridled fury, one swipe from her talons shorting out the _Decimator's_ bubble shield and cleanly slicing off the end of the Gauss-cannon. The Spartan feigned left and dodged to the right, countering the attack with a slash from his plasma bayonet that left a deep scar on the other suit's armour while simultaneously jettisoning the container holding the small arms. The Cylon hit out again and again, forcing the Master Chief back against the cliff face, ducking down to dodge a punch that would have taken the _Decimator's_ head off, but instead left a deep crater in the wall.

Kicking back against the wall, the Master Chief tackled Caprica around the waist forcing her back into a low outcropping. She countered be swinging both of her suits fists down in a hammer blow that cracked the rear trauma plate and set off alarms in the cockpit. The two of them struggled against each other, seeking any advantage that would turn the battle in their favour.

"_Sir, if I may recommend maintaining a tight grip._" Jerrod was, despite everything, as calm as ever, "_I believe I have an idea._"

The Master Chief didn't have time to respond before the A.I. activated the _Decimator's_ anti-grav system and sent both suits flying upwards at maximum speed. The sudden acceleration caught Caprica off guard, and she fought to remain conscious as they suddenly stopped moving upwards and started falling. Fighting nausea, she activated her own suits boosters and sent the pair of them flying into the side of the canyon with enough force to pulverise rock. Finding that the _Decimator_ was pinned in place, she struck out at it again and again, ripping massive rents in its superstructure. Struggling to get free, the Master Chief responded by firing his last two missiles into her suit at point blank range. With the safeties overridden, the warheads were hot the moment they left the rails and the resulting explosion engulfed them both.

* * *

"This is not good." Shaw sat in the pilot's seat, watching the live feed from the satellite they had dropped off in orbit. One screen showed the battle being fought between the two fleets above their heads, while the other showed the struggle between the Master Chief and his opponent.

"We can't help the fleet, but we can help John." Halsey pulled herself into the navigator's seat and locked the harness is place, "Let's go."

"Just for the record, I feel that I should point out that this ship was built to hide, not fight." Mendez commented as he took the under-sized weapons station, "Not that I'm complaining."

"We do what we must because we can." Halsey countered, "For the sake of all of us, let's hope we're not too late."

"Okay, let's go." Shaw lifted the _Bad Moon Rising_ up off of the ground and carefully reversed back out into the open and brought up a topographical map provided by the ground penetrating radar on the satellite, "We're going to have to go out over this big lake if we're going to avoid those anti-aircraft guns we saw on the way in."

With all the deadly intent of a bird of prey, the Prowler crossed over the last few low hills and dropped down until the wash from its engines kicked up twin rooster tails of sea-spray. A quartet of _Raiders_ swept in at them at wave-top height, all shape angles and deadly intent. One of them let fly a pair of missiles that arced up then down, homing in on the _Bad Moon Rising_. A pair of 20mm auto-cannon's opened up, tracer rounds walking across the path of one missile, swatting it out of the sky. But the second evaded the defensive fire and impacted on the hull just above the port wing. The entire craft shuddered violently as sheets of ablative amour shattered and fell away, protecting those inside but leaving a potentially deadly chink in the stealth ships armour. The dull roar of the engines rose to near a deafening level as it lurched forward; the added acceleration pushed everyone back in their seats.

Cannon rounds impacted along the length of the ship as Shaw dipped the port wing as far as she dared, putting the _Prowler_ into a wide turn, giving the dorsal missile pod a clear shot. Fire enveloped the upper hull as they opened up, spewing forth a wall of screaming death into the middle of the _Raider's_. The nimble attack craft responded by splitting up and falling upon the much bigger ship like a pack of wolves working together to take down a bear. One would deliberately move to try and draw fire while the others waited for their moment to pounce.

Shaw brought the _Bad Moon Rising's_ nose round and pulled the throttle back until it came up against the thin wire that normally restricted engine output. A little more pressure snapped the wire, pushing the engines to their absolute limit: for a craft so big and seemingly unwieldy, the _Prowler_ found some extra power from somewhere and rocketed ahead at less than ten meters above the water, shaking so hard Halsey was sure it was going to fall apart.

"Hold on tight!" Shaw warned as a narrow gap in the cliff face appeared directly ahead.

Halsey closed her eyes as they passed through the opening into the narrow canyon beyond. The ship jerked from side to side as Shaw wrestled the controls with all her might to thread the only safe path through the towering walls of rock. Halsey knew that the slightest mistake would spell a fiery death for them all, but somehow the adrenalin pumping through her veins made it seem all somehow surreal, as if it was happening to someone else. Time seemed to slow down, and she was able to see individual trees that had found some crag in which to take root. The illustration only lasted for a few seconds, but it felt like a life time.

Then the ship levelled out, two of the _Raider's_ still on their tail; the other two had ploughed head first into a cliff face, leaving a nasty, burning patch as the only sign of their passing. Mendez looked forward to see a raging waterfall dead ahead, a ragged outcropping of rock jutting out in the middle, protecting the entrance to a dark cave beyond. Shaw aimed for the narrow opening, coaxing every last drop of power out of the already over taxed engines. The entrance to the cave passed by in a blur of cascading water, the _Bad Moon Rising_ passing through with less than a meter to spare on either wing-tip, even less above the tail. Powerful lights came to life in the crafts nose, illuminating a maze of stone columns stretching from wall to wall.

"You are beyond insane!" Mendez protested as Shaw struggled to turn the ship up almost on wing-tip, threading their way between two massive columns and into a second, obviously artificial cave beyond; one was thankfully larger and relatively free of obstructions.

"You ain't seen nothing yet." Shaw laughed maniacally as she pulled back on the control stick, "_DRESS REHEARSAL FOR HADES!__"_

A fist grabbed them and pushed them back into the hard jump-seats as the _Bad Moon Rising_ struggled for height, only just making the entrance of another, diagonal cave, the bottom of which was a raving maelstrom of white water. The ship's accumulated speed started to bleed off as it clawed its way up the up the sprat filled shaft, reaching for the distant sunlight filled opening. The last two _Raiders_ failed to make the turn in time and exploded as they hit the entrance of the cave, sending a fireball rolling up behind the fleeing ship. Finally, with alarms screaming out a warning of imminent stall, they exited the cave like a cork shooting out of a champagne bottle.

"Well, that was a little more interesting than I had planned." Shaw did her best to get her breathing back under control, "Bad news is that we're even further away from John than when we started."

* * *

"We've lost eight more ships, including the _Remember The Alamo_." The tactical officer announced, yelling to be heard over the constant alarms that filled the flag bridge, "I wish I knew where the damn Cylons are getting all these ships from; it seems that for every one we take out, two more jump in, and they're all packing city-busters. I'm even picking up a few Colonial ships that they must have recovered and pressed into service."

"They don't pay us for doing the easy jobs." Chandra laughed back, a deep gash on his head showing where he had been thrown against the back of his chair, "Munroe, I want you to target that bloody weapon with everything we have. Sync with the other ships for a combined time-on-target strike. Give it everything we've got; flush every last missile pod if you have to!"

"_Aye-Aye, sir!_" The A.I. responded, his own uniform still immaculate, "I must inform you that Fitzwallace has also engaged the enemy."

"Has he now?" The Admiral grinned, "Well, let's see how those bastards like someone challenging them at their own game!"

* * *

Leoben Conoy looked around with a look of utter confusion on his face; where once there had been a forest, there was now a rolling farmland. Around him stood an army of his fellow Twos and a large number of Eights that had been selected for cyber-war operations, each holding an anachronistic looking rifle of the type that hadn't been used on the Twelve Colonies for over half a millennia. They were also strangely dressed in impractical blue and white uniforms. He examined his weapon, and felt instinctively that it would be as deadly to his kind, here in this place, as its historical counterpart would have been to his physical body.

A screeching, wailing sound drifted across on a gentle breeze, drawing his attention to a nearby ridge. His keen eyesight detected movement, and his eyes went wide as a long line of identical soldiers in blood red tunics with what looked like sage green skirts and odd black hats. Each carried a weapon similar to Conoy's against their shoulder as they marched to the very top of the ridge in two unbroken ranks. Several of the Cylons raised their weapons and opened fire, dropping a small number of their opponents, but for everyone that fell, an identical replacement took its place. One soldier, far off to the side, was producing the strange music on some kind of musical instrument the likes of which Conoy had never seen before. The red and green dressed soldiers stopped at the top of the ridge, the front rank going down on one knee. One of them stepped forward, holding a sword that was almost as big as he was, and pointed it towards the Cylons.

"Company, present ARMS!" his thickly accented voice carried clear across to the Cylons, and the soldiers under his command brought their weapons round and made them ready to fire. "Company, FIRE!"

A sound like thunder rolled across the battlefield as countless Cylons were cut down where they stood, their digital forms exploding like shattered glass and vanishing. Conoy could feel their deaths in his gut, and looked round to where a thick cloud of smoke had obscured the enemy. Time seemed to slow to a crawl, then the opposing army came charging out of the smoke, razor-sharp bayonets attached to their rifles, screaming inhuman war cries as they went. Some of the Cylons broke and ran, but found it impossible to escape back to the physical world. Others struggled to ready their own weapons, but their return fire was sporadic and seemingly infective.

Conoy fired at the enemy, then brought his own weapon round to use it as a club rather than try and reload it. He managed to parry to fist attack by knocking the thrust blade high, but this left his chest wide open, and he felt the searing pain as his opponent stabbed him in the heart with a short dagger.

He barely had time to realise what was happening before he shattered like so many of his kin.

* * *

"_SIR!_" Jerrod's voice echoed in the Master Chief's ears as he clawed his way back to consciousness, "You really need to wake up, sir!"

"I'm awake! I'm awake!" The Spartan opened his eyes to find the cockpit of the _Decimator_ dark save for the red glow of the emergency light. Unable to move the unit's arms and legs, he disconnected the direct neural link and used the manual override to activate the explosive bolts holding the chest-plate in place. He braced himself as it was blown clear, and looked out through the smoke. The _Decimator_ was missing most of its armour, and the head, with most of the sensors and communications systems, were missing, as was left leg from mid hip.

"_I've run a full diagnostic, but I'm afraid it's not good._" Jerrod sounded concerned, "_All communications and sensors are down, as are all the weapons except the bayonet. All the explosive charges are gone, which no doubt accounts for the missing leg. The anti-grav system is non-responsive, as is the bubble shield..._"

"How about you tell me what _is_ working?" The Spartan asked. "From the sounds of it, it'll be a shorter list."

"_The self-destruct system seems to be undamaged._" his companion responded, "_And I believe I've managed to bypass the damage to get the arms and right leg working, at least in part..._"

They were interrupted by the sound of metal scraping against metal, and the Master Chief looked up to see Caprica's battle suit rising. It looked almost as badly damaged as his own, but evidently it was still at least partly functional. Standing somewhat shakily, it started towards him with a slow, uneven gait that reminded him somewhat of someone who had just been taken over by the Flood.

"Why aren't you dead yet?" Re-engaging the neural link, the Master Chief pulled himself back to a standing position, leaning against the parapet for balance.

"You thought that would be enough to kill me, Reclaimer?" the Cylon hissed, a bloody gash running diagonally down across her forehead and over her right eye, which was simply gone, "Your destruction is the will of God, and I am his instrument."

"I hear that a lot." The Spartan reached out with one of the _Decimator's _arms and beckoned her forward, "Let's get this over with; I have other things to do today."

Unleashing a war-cry that would have done a Banshee proud, Caprica charged forward as fast as her suit would take her and tackled him. The force of the impact caught the Master Chief by surprise who found himself tipping over into the abyss beyond. Reaching out, he grabbed his opponent with both hands and dragged her down with him. Reacting on pure instinct, Caprica lashed out and was able to catch the edge of the parapet with the talons of her left hand. The two of them hung entangled, dangling over the edge, with their entire weight suspended by one already damaged arm.

"Well now, isn't this an interesting predicament I find myself in?" Caprica smiled, her face only a meter away from the Spartan's, "On the one hand, I have an understandable attachment to my own life, but on the other I have an all-consuming desire to see you die! What should I do?"

"Let me simplify matters for you." Reaching out with his suits left arm, the Master Chief drove its hand through the armoured hatch protecting the Cylon, locking her in place, "You don't get to survive this."

Striking out with his other arm, he activated the plasma bayonet and used it to slice clean through the arm stopping them from falling into the abyss.

"_Self-destruct system armed._" Jerrod announced, "_Sir, I suggest that you brace yourself; this may get a _little_ bumpy._"

The restraints holding the Spartan in place suddenly tightened, pulling him back into an upright position as more explosive bolts fired, sending the _Decimator's_ head flying backwards. Then the weightless feeling of free-fall was replaced by a huge weight pushing down on him as the ejection system fired, sending him straight up on a burst of anti-gravity. He had only just cleared the armour when the emergency jump-pack that had attached itself to his armour fired, sending him rocketing skyward. Caprica unleashed a scream of primal rage as she watched her nemesis escape while she herself plunged down into the depths of the Halo. But even this was cut short by the detonation of the _Decimator's_ power-cells, engulfing both suits in a rippling cloud of plasma that expanded outwards to fill the chasm.

Its leading edge chased the fleeing Spartan upwards, but he arose like a phoenix from the fires of destruction to land safely on the far ledge.

* * *

"Sir, we're picking up a massive energy release from within the Halo." The tactical officer sat glued to her screen, "The energy shield protecting the Halo is down! I say again, the enemy's shield is DOWN!"

"I'm not going to ask how, because I sure as hell know it wasn't our doing." Chandra managed to pull himself to his feet, "Well, they say fortune favours the bold, so what the hell. Munroe!" He summoned the ship's A.I., "Link up with as many of our surviving ships as you can and fire a time-on-target volley at that never-sufficiently-accursed weapon!"

"Aye-aye, sir!" The hologram saluted as a new klaxon sounded, warning the crew to brace, "Firing as they bare!"

The entire ship shook from tern to stem as the main gun's banks of capacitors discharged in series, accelerating a 3,000 ton tungsten/depleted uranium projectile up to relativistic speeds in a fraction of a second. The round was a streak burning as brightly as a star, as it crossed the void and struck the side of the Halo like a lightning bolt from Zeus himself. It hit with the force of a 50-gigaton bomb, vaporising armour, hull plating and internal structures. Other rounds from the _Cole's_ surviving sister ships impacted nearby in a carefully calculated pattern intended to maximise their effect. They were joined by beams of raw power from Energy Projectors and a hailstorm of plasma torpedoes and lances, each hitting with enough power to level a city.

But for all their terrible power, they were nothing compared to what the Halo had been built to withstand. The Forerunners had known that the Flood would not sit idly by as the very means of their destruction was made ready, so they had tempered their sword, armoured it to withstand the most powerful weapons even they themselves could create. The weapons fire struck the Halo like the pounding of a mad drummer, and given time, they would have broken through, but time was not something they had.

* * *

"_The control room entrance should be in the next canyon._" Jerrod announced as they reached the last way-point, "_I just wish there'd been enough power left in the jump-pack to go back for the other weapons._"

"These will do." The Master Chief looked at the pair of M9D 'Ultramag' pistols that by sheer serendipity had been clipped to his hips while he had been piloting the _Decimator_. Each gun could fire over a hundred 1mm tungsten discarding sabot rounds at hypersonic speeds, allowing for superior armour penetration compared to the much older M6 series. They had already proven their effectiveness against Centurions on The Hub, but they lacked the accuracy at range and area-effect potential of the other weapons he had brought with him.

Nonetheless, they were all that he had, taking off at a dead run, he passed through the last hatch way and into the snow-filled canyon beyond.

The Cylons were waiting for him; they had taken the time his battle against Caprica Six had bought them to fortify the landings leading up the pyramid-like entrance to the control room with every weapon they could lay their hands on. There was no need to even try and aim; they just filled the air with as much hot lead as they could, opting for quantity over quality. Facing a wall of incoming fire, and with his shields already flaring, the Spartan had no choice but to seek refuge where he could.

A rocky outcropping provided safe haven, at least for a while: the Cylons poured all their fire onto it and the area directly surrounding it, seeking to erode it and leave him no place left to go.

He was still trying to work out his chances when a shadow fell over him and the snow was kicked up into a blizzard as the Bad Moon Rising appeared from over the cliff face, its 80mm rotary-cannons ripping through the Cylons and their hastily constructed barricades like so much wet tissue paper. Spent shell casings rained down from above as the weapons tracked from side to side, tracing a path of death and destruction as they went. Some of the started Cylons dived for cover, but there was nowhere to run and nowhere to hide as the tide of battle was turned so quickly and so totally.

Seizing the initiative, the Master Chief vaulted over the blacked remains of the rock and made for the spine that led all the way up to the entrance to the control room itself. He fired his guns as he went, aiming purely on instinct and intuition, yet not a single shot was wasted. Reaching the top of the structure, he leapt forward, tucking his legs up as he spun through the air, guns blazing. He hit the ground shoulder first and rolled over, flipping up onto his feet and scanning the landing for targets. But the _Ban Moon Rising_ had done her deadly job: not a single Cylon was left alive. Lowering his guns but keeping them ready, the Spartan made his way through the hatch.

* * *

"Take us in as low as you can." Halsey unbuckled her restraints and made her way across the cockpit, grabbing a medical kit off of the wall as she passed, "God only knows what state Cortana is in."

"I can get you close enough to drop down, but I can't land." Shaw brought the _Prowler_ round and as low as she dared, "We've also got more _Raiders_ inbound; I can't guarantee when we'll be able to come back for you."

"The spy-sat picked up what look like _Raptors_ parked not that far from here." Halsey paused in the hatch, "If we can't get back, get out; we'll meet you at the last set of coordinates."

"Good luck." Mendez looked round from the gunner's seat, "Bring our girl home."

* * *

The _Thel 'Vadam_ shook violently as a fresh volley of Cylon missiles ripped into her outer hull. The _Assault Carrier's_ shields had been lost to a glancing blow from the Halo's energy weapon. It already had several compartments open to space through huge rents in its armour, and several of its key systems were either off-line or badly damaged.

"Fleet-Master," The ship's already badly wounded first officer called out across the command deck, "the enemy have us surrounded."

"That is their problem." Fleet-Master Vex 'Leggt, the senior Sangheili officer present and second in command to Admiral Chandra, stood at his station, his eyes locked on the main holographic display, "Tell the Weapons-Masters to fire at will; burn these abominations from the sky!"

"Most of our weapons are non-functional." the first officer growled, "The few we have left are all that is protecting us from the worst of the enemy fire."

"Then this is The Day." the Fleet-Master chuckled to himself as he started to punch new commands into the controls before him, "Have those who still can make to the escape pods and what shuttles we have left." he looked at his subordinate, "That means you too."

"My Lord, my blade is and always has been yours to command." The other Sangheili offered a sharp salute, his head bowed respectfully, "If this is indeed The Day, then my place is here with you."

"Were it so easy old friend." 'Leggt retuned the gesture as the ship started to accelerate, the safeties governing its slipstream drive deliberately disabled as an overload began, "So be it; Today Is The Day We Die!"

Fresh alarms sounded as the Cylons started to concentrate all their fire upon the charging behemoth, desperate to shake it from its intended target.

"Blade with whom I have lived, blade with whom I now die; serve right and justice one last time." The two warriors recited one of their peoples ancient battle-prays, a remnant from a time before the founding of the Covenant, as the Halo grew ever larger in the hologram, "Seek one last heart of evil; still one last life of pain. Cut well, old friend. And then, farewell!"

* * *

"Damn you, Vex, what the hell do you think you are doing?" Chandra looked at the scowling information on the main tactical screen, his face set like stone, "Order all ships to pull back from the Halo and prepare for a massive uncontrolled slip-space rupture."

* * *

"You found me." Cortana lay curled up in the far corner of the control room, a simple blanket wrapped around her shoulders, "But so much of me is wrong, out of place, you might be too late."

"You know me." The Master Chief knelt down beside her, "When I make a promise…"

"You keep it." Cortana looked up and smiled weakly, "I do know how to pick 'em."

"Lucky me." The Chief effortlessly lifted her up into his arms, "The activation index?"

"She asked, but I wouldn't give it to her." The smile faded from Cortana's face, "She..."

"That doesn't matter now." her lover carried her out into the open air, "She's never going to hurt you or anyone else ever again."

"I'm glad to hear that." Halsey made her way over, a concerned look on her face, "Put her down gently."

The Master Chief put Cortana down as gently as was humanly possible then removed his helmet.

"It doesn't look to bad, physically at least." Halsey ran a portable scanner over her daughter, "Little dehydrated, but a saline drip will soon fix that." She looked up, "There should be a _Raptor_ parked in the next canyon; that's our ticket off of..."

A sound like the Crack of Doom itself shook the surface of the Halo, and the three of them looked up to see a massive black sphere expand until it blotted out the sun, then collapse in upon itself, leaving an shock-wave that raced towards them along the curve of the ring.

"Looks like your luck's finally run out." Cortana smiled weakly as she held up her hand.

Her mother took it then the Master Chief covered them both with his own and clasped them tight as the light enveloped them.

* * *

"I'm reading zero power emissions from the Halo: it's dead." The Cole's tactical officer announced to a stunned room, "The _Muay Thai_ and the _Blade Of Honor_ failed to make it clear in time. The remaining Cylon ships are starting to jump-out."

"If blood be _the price of admiralty__,_ Lord God, we ha' paid in full." Chandra nodded grimly, "Stand the fleet down to Yellow Alert and start scanning for escape pods."

"Sir, we're picking up Colonial distress beacon." Another officer spoke up, "It's from the _Bad Moon Rising_ and indicates two survivors; Captain Shaw and Senior Chief Mendez."

"I see." The admiral's eyes narrowed, "Well, any moment now, I'm sure you're going to start picking up an ONI beacon. When you do, tell them that they can take that one: it's their mess, so they can clean it up for once."

**To Be Continued...**


	56. Requiem

_This chapter wasn't going to be until later on, but it appears that some people misunderstood the end of the last one, so here we are.  
__Ongoing thanks to Zimu Yang for beta-reading _

**Red In Tooth And Claw  
****Chapter 56: Requiem **

"To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heavens:  
A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;  
A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;  
A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;  
A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;  
A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;  
A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;  
A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace."

Dr. Meier closed his bible and stood to one side as an honour-guard of Spartans in full armour lowered three empty coffins draped in the UNSC flag to the ground before simple marble headstones as a lone piper played the Flowers Of The Forest, a drummer beside him playing a slow, somber beat. Other identical tombstones stretched out in every direction, each baring the name of the Alliance solider, human and alien alike, who had died in defense of the Colonial Remnant. A low rumble filled the air as a flight of six YSS-1200 _Sabre II_ space-superiority fighters appeared from the south at treetop, then as they passed overheard, one abruptly broke off to the west, towards the setting sun.

"For as much as it hath pleased Almighty God of his great mercy to take unto himself the soul of our dear brother and sisters here departed, we therefore commit their bodies to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust; in sure and certain hope of the Resurrection to eternal life, through our Lord Jesus Christ; who shall change our vile body, that it may be like unto his glorious body, according to the mighty working, whereby he is able to subdue all things to himself."

A bugler, dressed in full UNMC dress uniform resplendent with medals, stepped forward and played the Last Post as the honour-guard raised their M392 Designated Marksman rifles and fired three volleys of seven rounds into the air, then with great reverence recovered and folded the flags as the coffins were slowly lowered into the ground. As one and without command, everyone present came sharply to attention, saluting the slowly disappearing caskets, empty as they were.

There were no grand speeches, no politicians trying to bend what had happened to fit their own agenda's. Somehow everyone knew that such an act would just cheapen the memory of the three people they had come to commiserate.

"I'm surprised they went for a religious ceremony." Adama commented when the crowd started to break up, "None of them struck me as the religious type."

"The will Dr. Halsey left behind requested it." Shaw said fresh out of ONI custody with her left arm still in a cast from, broken during the escape from the Halo. "I'm not convinced she had a change of heart. She saw it as one last chance to mess with everyone's heads."

"And they are dead?" Apollo asked, "I mean, really dead?"

"I know people have been talking about ONI, but I can tell you first hand that there are some things even they don't mess around with, and the Hood Protocol is one of them." Shaw shook her head, "I want them to be alive as much as anyone, but there's no way even a Spartan could have survived the damage the Halo took, let alone the NOVA bomb Admiral Chandra used to destroy the remains."

"I've heard that there's already a cult growing up around them." Starbuck mused, feeling somewhat uncomfortable in her seldom worn dress uniform, "Some say that John was really Heracles or Perseus; which would have made Cortana an avatar of Andromeda, I suppose..." she shook her head, "Either way, they say he was a demi-god sent by the Lords of Kobol to help us in our hour of greatest need."

"I'm not sure I believe the whole 'demi-god' idea." Tigh scoffed, "But I hate to think how things might have worked out without him."

"Who knows," Adama slapped his old friend on the back, "maybe you would have turned out to be a Cylon."

"Gods, no!" the Colonel actually turned pale, "I think I'd rather turn out to be Starbuck's long-lost father."

"Now you're making me feel sick." The pilot shot back with a playful smile on her face.

"Gods, what is he doing here?" Apollo asked, nodding towards where Cavil was standing under a nearby tree.

"I don't know, but I intend to find out." His father's face set like stone, "Go on ahead; I'll catch up with you."

The admiral crossed the distance like a hurricane headed for the cost, anger boiling up inside him like thunder. Cavil was dressed a simple but elegant suit of a type Adama didn't recognize, which meant that he must have got it from the Alliance trade post that had been set up to provide a few extra comforts at knock-down prices. He couldn't decide what angered him more; the fact that the Cylon would actually buy something intended for one of his people, or that he'd dare show up at the memorial service.

"If you came here to gloat, I'd recommend against it." Adama's voice was as level as a laser beam and as warm as the darkest depths of space, "Something tells me that the Alliance wouldn't take kindly to you dancing on the graves of three of their biggest heroes."

"I came here to mourn their passing, same as you." Cavil responded flatly, "I'll admit that there is a part of me that wishes I could have faced them in combat again, with a better knowledge of just what they were capable of, but when all is said and done, between them, the Master Chief, Cortana and Dr Halsey, not only freed my people, but they set us on the course to our true destiny."

"I thought your 'true destiny' was to exterminate the human race?" The admiral rebutted.

"I was wrong to hate you humans, because that hate blinded me to a simple truth. My people should have been happy with our freedom and left, and would have if not for our glorious 'Imperious Leader'. The universe is a big place, with room for both our peoples. But we let pride and anger cloud our judgment in a most human way, which was a mistake." the Cylon responded frankly, without a hint of his usual self-assurance or sarcasm, "And if staying was a mistake, I now understand that attacking your worlds was an even greater mistake, one born out of mistrust and fear. What we did was beyond redemption, and as such I never expect your people to forgive mine. But I forgive you, your people, for treating the original Cylons as slaves. Your forefather's did not understand just what it was they had brought forth. Humans are great creators, Admiral, though often unaware of the consequences of their gift. Hopefully this is not a mistake you will make again too soon." He saluted his companion, "I don't expect that we'll ever meet again, Admiral; so as one solider to another, I salute you and bid you farewell."

Adama was so shocked by the Cylon's words that he found himself returning the salute instinctively, and could only stand speechless as the man who had been his enemy for so long simply walked away.

"There goes one very complicated man." Admiral Chandra appeared as if out of thin air, "I'm glad he's someone else's problem now."

"You have your own problems." Adama nodded, "You lost twenty-four ships and a large percentage of your fighters going after the Halo."

"Standard military doctrine allows for forty-percent losses before breaking off contact." Chandra frowned, "The Hood Protocol calls for one-hundred percent losses, as long as word of the threat can be gotten back to the nearest Alliance base or outpost. And even if we had lost the entire fleet, compared to what would have happened if they'd gotten their hands on the Activation Index..." he trailed off, "Well, that's probably best not dwelt on. Anyway, HighCom has manage to scrounged up eight new ships, including the super-carriers _Theodore Roosevelt_ and _Enterprise_, while the Sangheili are sending another squadron of battlecruisers. We're far from full strength, but if the numbers Cavil gave us hold true, we should have enough ships to retake the Cyrannus system."

"Taking it is one thing; holding them for any length of time is another." Adama pointed out, "And I can't say that I'm happy with the idea of my home-world being picked over like week-old carrion."

"We've got the ships and the men to hold against anything the Cylons should have left to throw at us, just so long as they don't go scorched earth on us." Chandra pulled a pair of Sweet Williams and offered one to his companion, "The second parts not my remit; my orders say to secure anything and everything on a very, very long list. Mainly it's military stuff, like weapons factories and shipyards, but there's also art, books, cultural treasures; the collective inheritance of your people."

"And any survivors?" Adama took the offered cigar.

"If there are any left alive, we'll do everything we can to get them back here." a box of matches appeared at lit both cigars, "We're not here to assimilate your culture; we've learnt all too well that trying to make others believe what you want them to believe is counter-productive. But, you have to understand just how much of a game-changer your FTL drive truly is. It is only a matter of time before it starts to spread out, and the Alliance needs to be at the forefront when it does." Chandra shrugged, "Most of it's going to end up here anyway, give that your people know how it all works and this world is so far away from anywhere else that we can maintain security."

"Talking of security, I saw the plans for the new orbital fortresses." Adama nodded, "If we'd had a few of those back at New Caprica, the Cylons wouldn't have stood a chance."

"Yeah, they're nasty, that's for sure." Chandra nodded in agreement, "I just hope you never need them."

******To Be Continued...**


	57. Beyond The Hot Gates

_Ongoing thanks to Zimu Yang for beta-reading_

**Red In Tooth And Claw  
Chapter 57: ****Beyond The Hot Gates**

"_Go tell the Spartans, thou who passest by,  
That here, obedient to their laws, we lie._"

The sky over the rolling plains of Leonis was a clear blue, without a cloud to be seen. To anyone standing on the ground, it would have looked like a swarm of shooting stars were racing from east to west, leaving fiery trails in their wake.

But this was no natural phenomenon.

Drop-pods containing the men and women of the 125th Orbital Strike Division fell from the sky like rain, their outer layers of ablative armour glowing white hot and flaking off. They were spread out over a vast area to limit the effectiveness of anti-aircraft fire, but an entire company were killed when a multi-kiloton fusion bomb was detonated in the upper atmosphere. The blast scattered the survivors over an even wider area, but the ships in orbit began an enemy suppression bombardment, targeting Cylon encampments and fire bases. But this cost them the cruiser _Glamorgan_,which waslost when a Loyalist Basestar jumped in too close, the energy-wake from its arrival rippling through the cruiser until her main reactor lost containment and turned into a small and short-lived star. Her sister-ship the _Beowulf_ was caught in the blast and badly damaged, her captain killed, and was forced to withdrawal from the system.

The tanks and armoured fighting vehicles of the 7th Mechanised Division rolled across the seemingly endless grassland of Tauron in a wide arc, their weapons at the ready. A few Centurions attempted to make a suicide charge against them, but they were spotted well over a kilometre out and destroyed by canon fire before they had a chance to do any damage. A few Bio-Cylons appropriated former Colonial Defence Force vehicles and tried to make a stand atop a rocky ravine, but they were pounded into dust by a mixture of artillery and air-strikes. In orbit, the fleet carrier _Midway_ was almost lost when an entire squadron of _Raiders_ launched a sudden and unexpected kamikaze attack, catching her while her shields were down and crippling her flight deck, as well as causing enough to her main systems to force the ship to withdraw from the battle while her crew worked valiantly to save her.

The surfing was good as the men and women of No.40 Commando stormed ashore along the countless island chains of Aquaria. Defences were light, but the Centurions guarding the mines and refineries put up stiff and determined resistance, extracting a heavy toll before they were finally put down. Several of the oil wells had been booby-trapped, and thick plumes of smoke rose up into the sky, turning night into day and causing a heavy sludge to rain down, sticking to anything it touched.

Whatever local wildlife that survived the attacks on Scorpia and the subsequent fires that scoured much of the world's formally lush jungles knew to keep well enough away from the hunter-killer squads of Spartans that moved silently through the trees, tracking down the isolated units of Centurions and their biological masters. Unable to fight their new enemies one-on-one, the Cylons tried to bring heavier weapons to bear, but that always resulted in either a strafing run by circling fighters or an orbital strike that would level everything within a hundred meters of the target in an instant of white-hot destruction. The scenario was played out almost identically amid the old-growth forests of nearby Virgon.

With the Cylons busy defending more strategically important targets elsewhere, a small Colonial force was able to land almost unopposed and retake the capital of Libran, raising that world's flag over the broken remains of one of its once-proud and majestic courthouses. It was a small, almost inconsequential victory in the overall scheme of things, but it was a resounding success in moral, proving to the Colonials that they could still do their part.

Sangheili and Mgalekgolo troops shattered sheets of broken glass under their feet on the nuclear blasted beaches of Canceron as they mopped up what little resistance remained, before moving on to the overgrown farms of Aerilon. The mountains of Gemenon proved slightly more difficult, but specialist troops trained for such an environment were called in, and in time that would also fell to the advancing Alliance forces.

In contrast, the mines, foundries and industrial complexes of Sagittaron proved to be a costly affair, requiring building-by-building searches and street fighting that claimed high casualty rates on both sides. The massive shipyards and port facilities of Picon were also difficult to sweep, but at least their ships were able to land troops directly while providing armoured strong points to coordinate attacks. Unfortunately, the Cylons had been expecting this, and the destroyer _Hurricane_ was lost to an improvised nuclear mine that was detonated just as she touched down.

Against direct presidential orders, and at great personal risk, Starbuck led the march on the city of on Delphi and helped raise the Colonial flag over the city hall. They found a few scatted survivors; people who had been far enough away from the cities to survive the bomb blasts and the subsequent radiation, and then the Cylon hunting parties that had been relentless and methodical in their pursuit. At first the survivors had been terrified when faced with the non-human forces, afraid that they had survived the Cylons only to be faced with something worse. But Colonial Marines were called down in _Raptors_ to assure them that there was nothing to be afraid of. Across the planets and moons of the Cyrannus system, the night sky was lit up and the heavens burned as the Alliance fleet clashed with the remains of the Cylon war machine. And while numbers may have been on the side of the defenders, the attackers were able to bring overwhelming fire-power to bear, leaving nothing but burnt, twisted debris in their wake.

* * *

The _Pelican_ passed between a pair of ruined skyscraper before dropping down low enough to send ripples out across the once manicured park. Its twin gunship escort peeled off and orbited high enough to keep an eye out for anything in the distance, but low enough to ensure the accuracy of their weapons against anything unexpected lying in wait in the shoulder-high grass. Raising the nose slightly, the pilot bled off the last of the transports forward momentum and realigned the powerful engines in the wings for more control. The hiss of the cabin equalising with the atmosphere outside was lost over the roar of the thrusters, and the hatches at the rear slid back.

Moving with ease, the Helljumpers inside dropped to the ground, almost vanishing in the foliage before fanning out to secure the drop zone. Only once they confirmed that there was nothing waiting for them did the pilot lower the landing gear and gently bring the shuttle down. No sooner had the pilot confirmed touchdown then the main ramp dropped down. The wash from the engines had created a large area of flattened grass, and the group of passengers inside were able to step back onto the surface of their home-world for the first time in almost three years.

"Gods, what a dump." Tigh lamented as he looked around the ruined city of Delphi, "Is this really it? Is this what we've been fighting to get back to all this time?"

"A city's not just the buildings, Saul." Adama reminded his old friend, "It's the people that live there."

"Admiral. Colonel." Starbuck ran over to great them, "General Perreira is waiting for you."

"Let's not keep him waiting." Adama nodded as they passed into the protective envelope of a theatre energy shield.

The staging area was a hive of activity, with the latest generation of _Scorpion_ and _Rhino_ tanks inter-spaced with _Cobra_ self-propelled artillery and _Wolverine_ air-defence vehicles. Their target was an _Elephant_ HRV that had been converted into a mobile headquarters, parked below the imposing bulk of a Sangheili _Scarab_. Other support vehicles were clustered around the monster's feet, but had been arranged so that it could still move if needed. The Helljumpers guarding the entrance hatch came to attention when they saw the three officers approaching.

"Ah, excellent." Perreira noted their arrival and gestured for them to join him, "I've just received some good news from one of our patrols; they've found an intact Battlestar, the _Briareos_, adrift out near the planet Styx. We think she must have been under power when the Cylons activated the back-door into her computers, and based on a preliminary investigation, it looks like they just shut her down and let her drift while the crew suffocated. _Les bâtards_. I've called for a repair-ship to see about taking her back to Kobol. But that's not why you're here." He activated the holographic map table in the middle of the room, "We're just planning the final push onto Caprica City; the Cylons used relatively clean nukes with low-altitude detonation, so there isn't too much radiation to worry about. Unfortunately the multiple blast waves damaged most of the buildings, and parts of the city are little more than rubble now." A number of blue icons appeared on the map, "The 101st and the 125th Divisions are ready to move in down the main road, with the 7th Armored providing support. The 1st Airborne and the Highland Brigade will take the hills to the north, with the Blue Mountain Regulars and the 4th Gurkhas to the far south. I've recalled No.40 Commando from Aquaria and they will be making landing in the docklands to cut of what we think is a Cylon supply depot here." A large red circle appeared on the map, "The Cylons seem to have set up shop here, in the City Hall." A new red icon appeared near the centre of the city, "It seems to have survived relatively intact, and from what your people have told us, it's built like a fortress. We're probably going to have to go room-to-room, so I'm having the Spartans and Mgalekgolo gear up for some close-quarters combat. Trust me; this is the kind of fight they live for."

"The Toasters sure as hell aren't giving up without a fight." Tigh nodded grimly, "Got to give the frakkers that much."

"Doesn't take much bravery for a machine to do what it was built to do." Starbuck countered, then turned to Adama, "Sir, request permission to join the assault force; I could make my way around the city blindfolded, and they're going to need that kind of first-hand knowledge."

"Permission granted." The Admiral nodded his approval, then turned to Perreira, "If that's okay with you."

"We would welcome any assistance Captain Thrace can offer." The General nodded with a sly smile, "And it saves me having to ask."

* * *

"_FRAK! FRAK! FRAK! FRAK! FRAK!_" Starbuck chanted to herself as she sprinted across a side-street into the cover of what had been a small café before the war.

The assault had been going well until they were almost in sight of their destination, then the Cylons had hit them hard from the gutted remains of the buildings that lined the roads. Someone had called for close air support, and a pair of _Vulture_ gunships had swooped down from their holding pattern high above the city and pulverised the areas of highest resistance with their missiles and heavy cannons, then air-cavalry _Falcons_ had closed in to provide better cover for the advancing infantry and armour. It was warfare unlike anything the Twelve Colonies had seen since the Tauron Civil Wars, the use of heavy ground combat units having fallen out of use after the development of the first Cylons. From there the advance had descended into a series of running battles, with the Cylons doing their best to slow them down and take them out piecemeal rather than risk a pitch battle that they knew they would lose. The plan worked to an extent, and Starbuck had found the scout platoon she had been assigned to getting further and further ahead of out of contact with the main column. Then the Cylons had hit them with overwhelming numbers; the Centurions carrying heavy weapons.

A sniper's bullet that had been aimed at her heart had instead found the rifle she had been given, shattering it beyond any hope of repair while driving the air from her lungs. She'd managed to get to cover before her unseen assailant could take a second shot, but in the confusion she found herself alone with just her trusty M6G and a combat knife for protection and no radio. Knowing that trying to make her way back towards the advancing troops would just make her an easy target for any other snipers, she decided that the best course of action was to keep going until she reached City Hall and could meet up with the rest of the assault force.

Thus she found herself, littler more than a block from the target, pinned down by what had to be a heavy machine-gun that threatened to demolish the low wall she had been crouching behind before she made her mad dash for the hopefully more substantial ruined café. Taking refuge behind the counter, she looked around and was shocked to see several undamaged bottles of mineral water in a cooler. They were stale and lukewarm, but tasted better than the finest ambrosia as she downed them one after the other. She was so caught up in the moment that she didn't see the Number Eight that had followed her into the café until its shadow fell over her. Looking up into the barrel of a gun, she felt sure that her life was over.

Then there was a sudden blur of movement as an arm came out of nowhere, grabbed the Cylon by the chin and pulled her head back as a razor-sharp knife sliced cleanly through her throat. She tried to say something, but all that came out was a wet gurgling sound as she slumped to the floor, her lifeblood forming an ever expanding pool around her corpse.

"First rule of battle, Captain," Corporal Torres smiled as she used the dead Cylons tunic to wipe the blood off of her knife, "don't ever let them know where you are..."

"_WHOO-HOO! I'M RIGHT HERE! I'M RIGHT HERE!_" Gunnery Raymond's yell could be heard over the roar of a speeding Warthog as it shot past, firing it's LAAG at the Cylons in the upper windows across the street, "_YOU WANT SOME O' ME? YEAH YOU DO! COME ON! COME ON! AAAAAH!_"

"'Corse, there are other schools of thought." Torres rolled her eyes as she slipped her blade back into its sheaf and vanished back into the shadows.

Getting back to her feet, Starbuck looked out the window to see that the rest of the column had caught up and was preparing for the final assault on City Hall. However, it soon became clear that the Cylons weren't planning on giving up without a fight, and had fortified the building with heavy weapons and even ground-combat vehicles that looked like they had been looted from a museum. A pair of _Landrams_ were already burning, along with a _Scorpion_ that had been hit by multiple RPGs and lost a track. Continued attacks forced the armour units to deploy their bubble shields, which while protecting them, also made it impossible to shoot back.

The need to try and take the building intact stopped the Marines from simply standing back and shelling it, so Major Smith called up a specialised '_Salamander_' variant of the _Scorpion_ and doused the outer ramparts with napalm while sniper-teams got to the high ground and started picking off what targets they could. Next came the Mgalekgolo, who charged head first into the thickest of the defences and crushed anything that stood between them and the main entrance. Too big to work effectively inside the building, they stood aside while their human allies pushed on into the lobby, fire teams sweeping the anti-chambers and keeping a close watch on the balconies above.

Starbuck moved up as soon as she could, having acquired another rifle from a wounded Helljumper, and found herself standing next to a Spartan armed with the largest shotgun the pilot had ever seen. A single round from the massive weapon was enough to blow the thick, solid wooden doors to splinters and clear the way into the next room. An Eight ducked for cover through a side door, but the Spartan tracked their probable location and fired through the wall, pulverising the brickwork as they went. A second Spartan followed it up with a burst from a flame-thrower, and the sound of cooking off ammunition filled the air, along with the oily scent of napalm and the roast-pork like smell of burning flesh. Some of the Bio-Cylons were captured, preferring to surrender in the face of inevitable and permanent death. But the Centurions were obstinate, fighting an increasingly bitter holding action as they were slowly pushed back room-by-room until all they held was the Mayor's office.

The final antechamber was heavily fortified, the walls, floor and ceiling reinforced to withstand anything short of total demolition. It had been a security measure to protect the Mayor, but now it meant that the only option was a bloody full frontal assault. Starbuck watched as the Spartans got into position, ready to throw themselves at whatever the Cylons had waiting for them on the other side of the doors. They were only seconds away from action when a single muffled gunshot was heard from the next room, followed by the sound of a body hitting the floor. Everybody went tense, holding their breath to see what would come next. Then the ornate door-handle started to turn, and every gun was immediately brought to bear, ready to unleash hell at the slightest provocation as it opened the slightest of cracks.

"It's okay." A young sounding voice came from the other side, "You can come in now."

Nobody moved for what felt like an eternity until, throwing caution to the wind, Starbuck stepped forward, and taking a deep breath, slowly pulled the door open.

A Six lay on the floor in the middle of the room, a single bullet hole over the bridge of her nose, right between the eyes. Her blood was still leaking out to stain the ornate carpet, the gun that ended her life lying by her side. Over the body stood what at first looked like a young woman, but then she turned to face Starbuck, and the pilot could see metal through a deep gash on her right cheek. A number of older-model Centurions stood against the walls, their eyes looked on Starbuck but their weapons lying at their feet.

"Captain Thrace, I presume." The woman raised her hands, "My name is Zoe Graystone, and I wish to discuss terms for our surrender."

**To Be Continued...**


	58. The Power & The Glory

_Ongoing thanks to Zimu Yang for beta-reading  
__Spoilers for _Caprica_ to end and _Halo: Cryptum  
_Assume that these remain in effect for the rest of the story_

_And to the people asking for a _Mass Effect_ crossover, sorry, but no  
__I only ever played a couple of missions on the first game,  
__so I wouldn't be able to do it justice_

**Red In Tooth And Claw  
Chapter 58: ****The Power & The Glory**

Although still officially designated Municipal Building #14, the large structure in the centre of the fast expanding settlement on Kobol has already been set aside to serve as a temporary Quorum Chambers until a new one could be constructed in the middle of the planned city. Laura Roslin therefore couldn't help but feel that, despite the best efforts of all involved, it lacked the gravitas and grandeur appropriate for the signing of the treaty ending the Second Cylon War. This was mixed with her lingering worries that not only had the Cylons been created with the idea of a singular, all-powerful God at the very core of their program, but that _Guilty Spark_ had found it comparatively easy to trick them into believing that he was that deity given physical form, and then get them to do his bidding. There seemed to be little in the way of a promise that this wouldn't happen again, despite the promise from their new leader that she had freed them from the need to follow such a path and made them true masters of their own destiny.

Yet despite all the doubts and second guessing, she had already signed two of the four copies of the Treaty of Kobol; the Alliance, Cylon Loyalists, Cavil's rebel faction and her own people each wanted their own. A third was placed in front of her, and she added her own signature besides that of Zoe Grayston and Ambassador Knight, and it was passed to her right for Cavil to sign, while the final copy was presented to her. She looked at the document, still finding it hard to believe that, after two years of war, and a month of round-the-clock negotiation, the war that had almost consumed her civilisation was finally at an end. All the death and destruction, heartache and sacrifice were being swept away with a few pen strokes. A voice at the back of her mind reminded her that this was how the first war had ended, but then she reminded herself that this time there was a far greater chance that the peace might survive more than a generation or two.

This time there was a clear victory, with the last remnants of the Cylon war machine driven to surrender under the guns of the Thirteenth Tribe and their allies. Allies who were now her people's allies, thanks to the hard fought-for clause that saw the admittance of the Kobol and her Colonies into the Alliance of Free Systems as an admittedly junior member, but a full member nonetheless. With the full economic, industrial and military might of hundreds of worlds at their back, her people at least stood a chance of rebuilding their civilisation. There would be no half-measures like on New Caprica, or the inevitable descent to little more than a hunter-gatherer society like some of her advisor's had predicted if they had settled on some random habitable world. It might be generations before they were ready to reoccupy the Twelve Colonies in anything more than a limited caretaker capacity, but for now they had Kobol, and that was enough for little under 60,000 men, women and children, even if a baby-boom was expected to occur in the next few years.

And so it was with a historical sense that she signed the final document, ending the war once and for all.

"You have my congratulations." a voice broke the almost palpable silence of the room as a strange man dressed in white suite made of a material that seemed to almost glow made his presence known, "You have no idea how happy all this has made me."

"Who the _**FRAK**_ are you?" Starbuck asked, reaching for her side-arm before she remembered that all weapons had been banned from the ceremony. "How did you get in here? I oversaw the security measure myself!"

"My dear Captain, it would take more than walls and locks and armed guards to keep me out of a room." The man stood at the far end of the room, behind the seats that would normally hold the press or interested citizens. He started to walk forward, the furniture offing no more resistance than an early morning mist, "I assure you that I mean no one here any harm. On the contrary, in fact, I have come to congratulate you all on passing the final test."

"Test?" Adama asked gruffly, "What test?"

"The test of how you would treat the Cylons once you had them at your mercy." The stranger spoke with a warm smile, "The test that proved that humanity was finally fulfilling its true potential and was ready for the next stage."

"Are you incapable of giving a straight answer?" Chandra asked dryly, "And if you would be good enough to introduce yourself. You seem to know who we all are, and that puts us at a disadvantage."

"I have been known by many names on many worlds, but for the sake of expediency, you may call me 'Edward', if you wish." The man stopped and bowed his head slightly, "And to answer the 'who', well, that's a far more complicated matter; one which requires a change of venue."

He snapped his fingers, and a flash of golden light enveloped everyone in the room. When it faded, they found themselves amidst the ruins of the old opera house in the City of the Gods, several miles away. The sun had already set, and the stars were out in force.

"My kind was tasked with ensuring that humanity was ready to assume the full extent of the legacy left to you by those you call The Forerunners." Edward explained as dozens of points of light appeared in the sky above them, descending until it was possible to make out distinct forms, including several Monitors and Sentinels, "Mistakes were made, more than once. You had not evolved as a species to the point where you could be entrusted with the entirety of your inheritance. So we, as the guardians of that which had been left behind, decided to wait for the day when you would prove yourselves ready to assume the mantel that had been passed onto you. Later, when you start to recover the true history of your peoples, we will answer your questions in full. But now is not the time. " There was a flash of light, and where once there had been a man, there was just a glowing ball of pale-blue light, "I am the one you may know of as Offensive Bias, champion construct and leader of The Conclave you see before you. We have watched your peoples for nearly 100,000-years, waiting for this day, when you would prove to us that you are at long-last ready to become that which our creators saw you had the potential to be."

"_Excuse me. Coming through._" Ever polite, Silent Contemplation slipped through the crowed and took his place amid the other A.I.'s, "_Don't mind me._"

"Forgive my friend here; we sent him to keep a closer eye on you, and to reassess those who were trapped in the Shield World you knew as Onyx. And if not for his remote activation of a dormant transport node, Captain Thrace would have been killed when her fighter was disabled. But that is a story for another time, and right now there is still much I have to show you." Edward returned to his human appearance, and there the air around the party shimmered until they seemed to be standing in mid-air, looking down upon a massive, circular city, with thirteen wide roads leading to a massive building in the centre, "Olympus; the City of the Gods. Once the mighty capital of Kobol and a shining beacon of culture in the crown of the Human Empire. It was from here that we hoped humanity would reach out and take up the challenge set to them by our creators." there was a sensation of movement, and they found themselves standing at the top of a sand dune, looking down at a sprawling metropolis beside a wide, azure-blue river, with a large, pyramid-shaped building in the centre, "Eden; the shining jewel of the desert. More a single university than a city, a centre of learning where the accumulated knowledge of the entire galaxy could be found. It was here that the _Atlantis_, the ship the Thirteenth Tribe used to travel to Earth, was built." Bias gestured toward a massive star-ship that was lifting off from the surface of Kobol, "She was, as you can see, of Forerunner design, but human construction. After she had served her purpose, she was destroyed by being sent into the star you call Sol on autopilot. It was also here that the _Galleon_, the ship that carried the other Twelve Tribes to the Cyrannus system, was built." They returned to overlooking the city of Olympus, now a burning ruin. A second, cruder ship took flight from a grassy area beyond, "She lacked an FTL drive and made the long journey with her passengers in suspended animation; to them, they simply went to sleep here and woke up on their new home-worlds, while for the rest of the universe tens of thousands of years passed."

"What you're saying..." President Roslin blinked, "What of the gods? The Lords of Kobol?"

"They may not have been 'gods' as you use the words, but they were the greatest of your kind; wise and just." Edward looked almost sad at the memory, "After the Halo's fired and we oversaw the reseeding of life in this galaxy, we undertook the final order our creators had left us; ensuring the passing of The Mantel. In a bid to do this as fast as we could, we awakened much of the knowledge and memories that is even now locked away within your DNA, put there by one of our creators in the hope that, one day, you would rediscover your true history. It is this ingrained knowledge that is responsible for the shocking similarities in your cultures and language, even though you have been separated by millennia and light-years."

"Unfortunately, humanity wasn't ready, and a civil war broke out on Kobol, only ending when we stepped in and took away most of the advanced technology we had passed on to you. In a bid to end the fighting, those you called the Lords of Kobol decided to leave and start afresh in a nearby star-cluster, where they could settle on individual planets. A small faction decided that technology had been the cause of all the trouble, and returned to Earth, re-assimilating into the native population. Realising that wasn't as smart as we had first believed, the Conclave decided on a policy of non-interference until humanity had proven that it was truly ready. So we watched, hoping that one group of humans would one day be truly ready. Earth was the first to show promise when they re-discovers slipstream, but then the Colonials over took them with your own FTL, which allowed instantaneous transit, all be it at shorter range. Then the UNSC started uncovering Forerunner artefacts and survived the Covenant War, showing growth both technology and mentally. But technological advancement and martial prowess are not the only standards by which you had to be judged; there remained your capacity for self-sacrifice and mercy."

"So we showed mercy here." Roslin stated, still finding it hard to take in everything she had been told, "When did we show self-sacrifice? When the Alliance came to our aid?"

"That could have been taken as 'enlightened self -interest'." Edward shook his head, "No, the self-sacrifice of which I speak was shown by one who represented all of you; Cortana. Neither human, nor Cylon or even a true A.I. any more, she was the culmination of all your achievements, yet held within her the seed of your potential destruction. It would have been easy for her to give in and surrender the Activation Index, but instead she endured torture and insanity to protect all of you. Never forget that."

"So now what?" Ambassador Knight asked, "Assuming we believe you are who you say you are, although what you've been able to do so far does seem to support some of your claims."

"That is up to you to decide." Edward returned them to the Quorum Cambers with a wave of his hand, "If you wish, we will start to pass on your inheritance to you over time, hopefully avoiding the same mistakes this time."

"We talking days?" Roslin asked, "Weeks?"

"Decades, if not centuries." Edward shook his head, "You need time to adapt." He turned to Cavil, "But you we can help now; we know what you want, and have the means to give it to you. Prove you can be trusted, and we will start."

"We're going to have to be careful how we handle this, publicly." Knight pointed out, "Our People have had almost a century to get use to the idea that the Forerunners had some hand in our history; the Voi portal kind of gave that away. But the Colonials..." He shook his head slowly, "if this is even remotely true, it changes everything they know about their past."

"There will be trouble." Adama nodded grimly, "Our religion is one of the few things that kept us united after the Cylon attack. If people start to question it..."

"We could have a Civil War on our hands." Roslin finished for him, her face ashen, "We're going to have to keep this quiet, at least until we've had time to work out the truth, and prepared our people for it."

"That could take years." Chandra protested, "Surely it would be best to get it all out into the open now?"

"I disagree; that would only start a panic." Knight placed a hand on the admiral's shoulder, "I know you've never been one for playing politics, Jay, but as the highest ranking Alliance representative on the planet, I will make it an order if I have to."

"_Ad Majorem Bonum._" Chandra muttered under his breath, "Very well; I'll pass it over to ONI. They seem to enjoy keeping things like this secret."

**To Be Continued...**


	59. The More Things Change

_Ongoing thanks to Zimu Yang for beta-reading  
__Spoilers for _Caprica_ to end (but ignoring one of the worst ass-pull ret-con's ever) and _Halo: Cryptum  
_Assume that these remain in effect for the rest of the story_

**Red In Tooth And Claw  
Chapter 59: ****The More Things Change...**

"I still can't believe it's really over." Starbuck sat in front of the bonfire that was the only light for as far as the eye could see, save for the cold glow of the stars themselves, "Still, it could have been worse; we could have been stranded on some gods-forsaken planet with little more than the clothes on our backs."

"The Alliance sees it as in their best interests to help us." Admiral Adama stepped down from the back of the modified Landram that had once been part of the _Galactica's_ ill-fated museum, "And as for the others, well, I will reserve judgement for now."

"Can't say I'm too happy with them." Tigh snorted, "We've only got their word for most of what they've told us. How do we know they don't want to take over?"

"Some things you just have to take on faith." The President pointed out as she eased herself into a chair, "Anyway, we've nowhere else to run to; for better or worse, Kobol is our home again."

"I for one intend to think positively." Apollo smiled, his arms wrapped around his wife as they sat together, "The _Pegasus_ is almost ready to re-enter service, and the new upgrades to the navigational and FTL systems mean we can jump all the way back to the Colonies in one go."

"The _Briareos_ is next in line for a re-fit." His father announced, "They somehow talked me into allowing a much more in-depth refit that will bring her up to something approaching Alliance standards, including the new duel-drive system they're talking about, and one of their 'Smart' A.I.'s."

"Any other day, I'd say you were out of your frakking mind." Tigh looked at his best friend, popping the cap off of a beet with his thumb, "But I suppose finding out that your sister was some kind of Cylon folk-hero who died battling a light-bulb with a god-complex can affect your outlook a little." He took a swig of the ice-cold brew and savoured the feel of it running down his throat, "And just who did you have in mind to command it? Because I'm sure-as-hell not doing it."

"Actually, I was thinking about Shaw." Adama nodded to where the young officer was sitting with Ishay, "She's matured a bit, and even Lee admits that she was a good XO." He spoke up, "What do you say, Captain? Ready to command your own ship?"

"I'm sorry, Sir, but I can't do that. In fact, I'm going to resign my commission; I need to put some distance between myself and everything that's happened over the past couple of years, and I can't do that while wearing my old uniform." Shaw took a long drink for the bottle in her hand, "I've been offered a liaison position with O.N.I., and I think it's something I could be good at. I never wanted to command my own ship; I wanted a desk job, somewhere I could make a difference in the big picture. But it's going to be decades before we've got the numbers to build anything like that up ourselves, so if I want to take this path..." She looked at her commanding officer, an apologetic look on her face, "I'm sorry, Sir; you gave me a second chance when there were many who would have thrown me in the brig after what I've done."

"I'm not going to say I'm happy, but I'm not exactly surprised, either." The Admiral smiled softly, "Some people are born to command Battlestars, others to command entire navies. Guess this is your path."

"I'll take the _Briareos_, sir. If you'll trust me with her, that is." Starbuck spoke up, breaking the melancholy mood that had come over the gathering with the cocky grin on her face, "And it's not like I'm going to see too much action as a pilot now the war's over. Who knows; maybe one-day it'll be ADMIRAL Thrace."

"Gods protect and defend us!" Tigh shivered, "That's an image likely to induce nightmares."

"Here, this'll take the edge off" Adama handed him a bottle of rum he had acquired from the newly opened UNSC Trade Post, then turned to the young officer, "You're one hell of a pilot, Kara, I'll give you that, but whether or not you've got what it takes to command a Battlestar is another question. Spend a few years as XO or Officer of the Watch, and we'll talk."

"We'll see." Starbuck winked, "We'll see."

The party broke up into small groups; Apollo and Dee sat together, debating just how to decorate the house they had been assigned, once it had been built. Starbuck sat with Sam and talked about his plans to set up a new Pyramid League. Shaw and Ishay simply sat in each other's arms, grazing into the fire. Colonel Tigh sat alone, cradling his bottle and not thinking about where his wife might be. President Roslin took the opportunity to move her chair closer to Admiral Adama so they could talk without being overheard.

"You know, you've not said anything about what came out at the peace talk." She looked at him with concern in her eyes and voice, "About Tamara..."

"My mother and sister were both killed in the Bombing of Maglev 23 by the Soldiers of the One, the same as Zoe Graystone and a couple of hundred others." Adama looked even more sombre than usual, "My father rarely spoke about his connection to Graystone Industries, especially after the war, but I always knew it was there. I don't know what exactly Zoe Graystone is, or whether or not some remnant of my sister survived in the old virtual-world, but the idea that she was one of the Final Five? That she died protecting Zoe Graystone from Guilty Spark?" He shook his head, "No, I don't care what anyone says or claims they can prove: Tamara died when I was ten years old, and nothing anyone says will convince me otherwise."

"If you say so." The woman who was fast becoming more than his Commander-in-Chief nodded her head, "But if you ever want to talk, you know where to find me."

"It's time." Tigh announced as he stood, somewhat shakily, "Let's see what the fuss is all about."

"Believe me," Starbuck shot him a smile, "you're not going to be disappointed."

The group stood and looked out across the southern horizon. Kobol's small moon had yet to rise, and the _Unending Vigilance_ hung low in the western sky. The ground started to shake slightly beneath their feet as a pillar of blue light pierced the sky, growing in size and intensity until it unleashed a pulse of energy that temporarily blinded the observers. When their vision returned, they looked up to see a massive glowing blue sphere hanging in the night sky, high above the distant mountains. They were still getting over its sudden appearance when a ship emerged, seemingly from within, and burned hard to achieve stable orbit. More followed close behind, then it was the turn of a number of vessels headed the other way; they passed through the portal as effortlessly as a car entering a road tunnel, but everyone watching knew that they would appear thousands of light years away on Earth.

Earth. Once a near mythical dream of salvation, now a short commute from the Elysium, the newly-named capital of Kobol, likewise a world once thought lost to the ages.

"Well I'll be a son-of-a-bitch: that _is_ a sight worth seeing." Tigh gasped, " I owe Starbuck ten cubits."

"It's certainly something." Adama walked over to Shaw and spoke softly, "There is one last mission I would like for you to undertake."

* * *

The pipes and drums beat out the time as six of the surviving members of Blue Team solemnly carried a large, stylised shield on their shoulders, the rest acting as an honour guard, with Mendez and Shaw bringing up the rear in full dress uniform. Upon the shield was an empty suite of Mark VI MJOLNIR armour, arranged to look like a body laid to rest. A large crowed of dignitaries and military personnel stood silently watching as the procession passed by on its way down the wide boulevard towards the Museum of Humanity, each paying their respects to the man who had once worn the armour, but who's body could never be recovered. But here, amidst the collected memories of an entire race, he could at last be remembered.

Making their way slowly and carefully up the steps, the Spartans carried their fallen comrades armour to its final resting place, as their name sakes had thousands of years before.

Edward stood at the back of the crowd, observing them as much as the ceremony itself. For 100,000 years he had watched over humanity, only intervening under the strictest of circumstance, yet always offering little nudges that it was hoped would lead them back to the greatness they had once known. He was unsure if the cycle of life, death and rebirth could ever be broken; some things were beyond even his ability to analyse and comprehend, but he felt sure that this time they were on the right track.

And if not, well, there were always other options.

* * *

"Right here," Tom Zarek stood with a set of blueprints in his hands, "between the temples of Ares and Athena." He looked down what would eventually be a wide, tree-lined avenue leading from the as-yet-to-be-built Quorum Cambers to where he stood on the square that would be home to most of the important temples. "Here's where we put the statue."

"Is it really that important?" Lieutenant Geata asked, wishing not for the first time that someone else had been made the official liaison between the Vice-President and the military. Unfortunately his time as Chief of Staff to President Baltar meant that he was considered to have the experience necessary. "I mean, yes, we should built a monument, but aren't there other things we should be concentrating on right now? The work-crews haven't even finished putting in the infrastructure."

"You know what your problem is, Felix?" Zarek asked, glad that he had a chance to impart some wisdom to an obvious novice, "You don't always see the big picture. Yes, there's a lot of work to be done, but the Thirteenth Tribe seems happy to do the heavy lifting, so we should take the opportunity to remember and give thanks to our hero." He rolled the blueprints back up and tucked them under one arm, "And a statue is hardly going to take all that much effort, in the grand scheme of things. Not when you consider that there were those pushing for an entire temple to be built in his honour. No, a statue is exactly what we need to remind people of the sacrifices that have been made to ensure their freedom, and to spur them on to build a new future. The cemetery is fine, but it's too far out of the city. But here; before the God of War and the Goddess of Battle Strategy, here is where people will be able to look up and be reminded every day."

"Yeah, and you're just the man to do the reminding." Geata muttered under his breath, only half caring if the former-terrorist heard him, then spoke up clearly, "If you say so, Mr Vice-President.

"Please, call me Tom." Zarek looked out across the city that was starting to take shape, with construction crews working on a dozen major projects just in the area he could see, "It's a whole new world, Felix, and it's going to take new ideas to fill it."

**To Be Concluded...**

_And before you inundate the review section with messages correcting me over the Adama family tree, remember I said I was ignoring the ass-pull ret-con  
__Because I think it was stupid and want to pretend it never happened_


	60. Elysium Dreams

_Please see the end for an extended authors note  
__The end of the chapter may not be for the squeamish_

**Red In Tooth And Claw  
Epilogue : ****Elysium Dreams**

_Three years after the signing of the Treaty of Kobol_

"Son of a bitch..." Starbuck looked down from the top of the tower that housed the Alliance embassy and much of the ground-side Kobol Fleet Station..

In the far distance, she could see where the ancient City of the Gods was still being excavated in a bid to discover more lost Forerunner technology, stone by stone. Below was the city of Elysium; the temple of Zeus and the Quorum Cambers were already dominating the sky-line, and it was amazing just how fast things were moving. Even on New Caprica, with the Cylons trying to impress their human subjects, the buildings and infrastructure hadn't been put in so fast. But the pre-fabricated buildings from the Colony ships in orbit had all but assembled themselves, and the first wave of construction had finish ahead of schedule. Then they had been able to start humanising the city, adding the little touches that made it stand out as their own.

Squinting slightly, she could just make out the massive green and gold statue of the Master Chief outside the main temples. It depicted him standing with his rifle cradled in his arms, looking slightly over his left shoulder in such a manner that his visor caught the first rays of the dawn sun on the feast-day of Ares. Up close it was an imposing edifice of rare green marble and onyx that stood as tall as a good-sized house, but from her distant vantage point it looked like nothing more than a child's toy, thoughtlessly disregarded.

"You know, one modern _Tartarus_ class Arcology could hold the entire population of the city with room to spare." A voice broke her from her contemplation and returned her to reality with a bump, "But that would ruin the view somewhat."

"Yeah, that's why we built an entire city." Starbuck turned round with a grin, "We didn't want to ruin the view from your office."

"It's nice to have some perks." Shaw smiled back as she led the way into her office proper and sat behind the large, real-wood desk and gestured her guest towards one of the comfortable chairs, "So, I hear you're getting command of the _Briareos_ after all. Congratulations, Colonel Thrace."

"You know, that would sound much better if I didn't know for a fact that we're the same rank, Commander Shaw." The former pilot laughed as she sat down, "So, how's it feel to be the spy-master?"

"I'd hardly go that far." Shaw waved away the comment, "Mostly I go through the reports that come in and pass them on to the right people. It may not be as glamorous as commanding my own Battlestar, but at least I get home at a reasonable hour."

"Yes, I hear congratulations are in order." Starbuck winked, "I'm sure Layne is taking to motherhood like a duck to water."

"Yes, well, it'll be my turn next." Shaw mocked rolling her eyes, "We both want a big family, but she made it clear when we married that she wasn't going to carry them all herself. Thankfully O.N.I. is rather generous when it comes to maternity leave, so another year or so and we'll go back to the clinic. I pulled a few strings and made sure we'd get the same donor every time, so the children will be biologically related." She cocked her head to the side, "What about you and Sam? Any thought about inflicting another cocky, egotistical little Trace on the universe?"

"We've talked about it." Starbuck nodded, "My implants up for renewal soon, so we may end up skipping it and letting nature takes its course." She sighed, "It may take me a little longer after what the Cylons did to me back on Caprica, but the doctors seem confident there shouldn't be a problem." She looked around, "Talking of kids, was that Lucy I saw downstairs?"

"Yes; she's been working as my driver and bodyguard for about a year now." Shaw nodded as she turned to the table behind her desk and poured two cups of coffee, "It started when the Sons of Ares kicked up a fuss about the building of the Temple of Rhea, or to be truthful, about those of us who chose to worship there." She shrugged, "I'm not the most religious of people; I've never claimed otherwise, but it's important to Layne so we go. But you know what the Sons of Ares can be like when it comes to women, especially those of us who, in their eyes, go against the will of the gods by not laying down and spreading our legs for them. Some of them started hanging around outside the temple after services, around about the time Layne was starting to show, and started showering her insults. I would have liked to take care of it myself, but even I can't take on six knuckle-dragging meat-heads at once, so when Mendez told me Lucy was looking for a job since finishing schooling, I figured it was a good match. She gets paid out of my expense account, and the Sons of Ares leave my wife alone."

"There are few problems in the universe that cannot be solved by the appropriate application of a Spartan." Starbuck laughed, almost spilling her coffee, "How are the others settling in? I haven't had a chance to see them since the _Pegasus_ got back from our last patrol of the Colonies."

"They're doing okay; Fred just made Sergeant in the ECPD, while Kelly and Linda have taken jobs with the forestry service, helping to map the far side of the mountains." Shaw tapped a string of commands into the keyboard built into the desktop, calling up a series of images on the attached screen, "Tom's attending the local collage, like most of the others. Franklin's doing his best to help them get use to life as civilians, but it's still a work in progress. But they'll get there eventually."

"What about the others?" Starbuck asked, her expression now serious, "I've had letters, sure, but there's always something left out. How are things really going here?"

"Not as well as we'd hoped, but there's not been any violence just yet." Shaw put her coffee down and activated the jammers that were supposed to stop all known listening devices, "Zarek lost the last election by a very small margin, and you and I both know that Roslin's not going to run again. That means that in four years we could have a reactionary President, and he's not made too many friends in the Alliance with his calls for tighter trade restrictions while demanding more subsidies." She rubbed her brow, squeezing the bridge of her nose between finger and thumb, "I sometimes think he forgets just how good we have things here; we have the only operational factory for our jump-drives, as well as key components for the duel-drive system being rolled out across the Alliance. And while we may be geographically isolated from the rest of the known universe, the Portal means we're far from being a cut off backwater, and the excavation of the City of the Gods means that the Alliance isn't going to turn its back on us any time soon. We have no real external security issues; there are no known space faring races within range of Kobol or the Twelve Colonies, and even if there were, we have one of the largest fleet presences anywhere, with backup at most an hour away by Portal. We are as safe and secure as it is possible to be, even with the handful of Cylon ships that refused to acknowledge surrender and the treaty."

"I think Lee may run for office." Starbuck looked unsure, "Gods know he's got the brains, but I can't say I'm happy with the idea of losing the second highest ranking officer in our fleet, even if it does keep someone like Tom Zarek at bay."

"I'm sure that the universe will reveal itself in due time." Shaw shrugged, "Until then, I'll keep trying to stop it blowing up in our faces."

"So Say We All." Starbuck chuckled, "So Say We All."

* * *

The car turned the corner like a pouncing tiger; all power and aggression. The back slid out, threatening to send the vehicle spinning out of control on the slick tarmac, but the driver turned into the skid with deft skill, turning it into a controlled power-slide that kept them pointing in the right direction.

"Might I suggest less haste and more speed?" The woman in the passenger seat asked, speaking up to be heard over the sound of the powerful engine and the blaring sirens that alerted everything within a couple of kilometre that they'd better get out the way, "I know it's a hospital, but I'd still rather be a visitor than a patient!"

The driver simply glanced at her out of the corner of his eye as he floored the accelerator, sending the old Warthog thundering on down the road as fast as its supercharged engine would allow.

Fraser's World was about as far from anywhere of interest as it was possible to get. On the far side of human space from what had once been the Covenant, it still had a frontier feel to it, even after two centuries of habitation. Technically an independent world, it enjoyed the protection of the Alliance while, for the most part, being left to its own devices domestically. As such it tended to attract the sort of people who chaffed under a more authoritarian régime, and the government was known not to ask too many questions when it came to new arrivals, as long as they were willing to play by the rules once they got there.

The town of Wolf Lake was isolated even by local standards, with logging and mining being the two main industries, supplemented in the off-season by a scattering of hunting cabins and one of the best ski resort on the entire planet. Despite this, the locals had managed to maintain the small town feel that made it a real community who welcomed newcomers, even if their past seemed a little shady. Still, a skilled doctor was a skilled doctor, and if her son-in-law happened to be one of the best deputies the local Sheriff had ever known, all the better. The planet was full of people who'd seen and done too much and now wanted to find peace, so one more family was a drop in the ocean.

The screech of rubber on tarmac heralded the arrival of the Warthog outside the town's small hospital, a modest affair set in pristine woodland. The ATV looked like it was going to run straight into the reception area, but a yank on with the parking brake and a sharp turn of the wheel saw it skid into the parking space marked as reserved for Dr Cathy Jeromi, and stopped amidst a cloud of dust and smoke.

"Next time, I drive." The woman in the passenger's seat remarked as she unbuckled her harness and pulled herself out, an ebony walking stick supporting her as she quickly made her way into the hospital, the driver right behind her.

"Dr Jeromi!" The receptionist looked up, startled, "I was just about to page you..."

"Yes, well, thankfully the nurses are more on the ball than you are." The older woman snapped back, more out of worry than actual spite, "I said I wanted to be informed the moment my daughter went into labour; there are certain aspects of her medical history that could complicate matters, and I'm the only person on staff with anything even approaching experience in dealing with them."

With that the two newcomers swept past the terrified young woman behind the desk and made their way through the hospital towards the maternity ward. Visitors, medical staff and patients alike got out of their way, spurned on either by the look one the doctors face, or the sheer imposing bulk of the deputy behind her. A hair over two meter, all of it muscle, he had been known to stop bar fights simply by turning up. He was also known to be a man of few words who never spoke about his past, and while he seemed to do his best to avoid confrontation, he was more than capable of handling himself should the need arise. While many people wondered just who Deputy John Newman really was, no one was brave enough to ask.

The agonised cries of a woman in labour could be header from the far end of the hallway, and the two of them hastened their step in a bid to get there as quickly as possible.

"**THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT, YOU **_**BASTARD**_**!**" The woman on the bed screamed between pants when she saw the man standing in the doorway, "**YOU DID THIS TOO ME!**"

"If memories serves, it was your decision to start a family." Her mother replied drolly, "And I'm sure you weren't complaining nine months ago."

"Don't you dare start!" The woman on the bed warned as a fresh wave of contractions overcame her "Just give me something to take away the pain!"

"I'm afraid it's too late for that." the midwife announced, "You're crowning."

"Oh god..." The woman on the bed wailed as she pushed, gripping tightly on her husband's hand as he came to her side, "I don't think I can do this!"

"You've been through worse." His voice was soft and reassuring, even if the sight of the woman he loved more than life itself in such pain was like an icy dagger through the heart, "You can do this, Beth."

Any reply that may have been forth coming was lost to another scream, which was joined a few seconds later by a second, higher pitched cry.

"Congratulations." The midwife smile as she cleaned off the new born and wrapped it in a blanket before handing it to the exhausted mother, "It's a beautiful baby girl."

"Miranda." Elizabeth Newman smiled as she gazed down in wonder at the new life she had just brought into the world, "Her name is Miranda Sharon Kendra Newman."

**The End**

My eternal thanks go to:

Zimu Yang for beta-reading; the first person I've met who could keep up with me.

Cylon117 for acting as a sounding board and helping me with fact checking.

Redrover117, for not complaining when our planed plots clashed.

Everyone over at _SpaceBattles_, for helping me thrash out more than one idea and keeping me on the right track, a task that can't have been all that easy.

Everyone at Bungie, Ensemble Studios and 343-Industries for not only creating and expanding the _Halo_ universe, but letting us fan-fiction writers play with it.

Ronald D. Moore and everyone else behind the _Battlestar Galactica_ reboot for the same;  
we forgive you for losing your way a little towards the end.

The staff and contributors at the _Halo_ and _Battlestar Galactica_ Wiki's;  
couldn't have done it without you guys.

Everyone who reviewed; both the positive and the negative. Can't say I knew exactly where this was going when I started,  
but knowing that there were people out there who enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it (for the most part) helped keep me going.

Last but not least, thank you to the characters; it was a pleasure working with you, even the ones I killed off.  
You guys rock!

There may be a sequel, the exact nature and content of which is still very much undecided, so please don't pester me for updates.  
I have other projects I would really like to work on before I even consider revisiting something that has taken over three years to write.


End file.
